Whisper For Me
by Razer Athane
Summary: So you stay. You watch the world fall apart - yours, his, and theirs. You're forced to watch people die. You can't stop it. You can't fight. You can't hide. You're trembling. You can barely breathe. You wait. You whisper. -With Me Sequel- COMPLETE.
1. Echo

_If it is in _normal style, _then it is speech.__  
If it is in italics, then it is thought.  
If it is in __**bold**__, then it is the individual's natural tongue.  
If it is __underlined,__ then it is Devil and Angel.

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_Disclaimer:__ Don't own any characters except Razer, Seong-Hada and any non-Tekken characters that appear throughout the duration of this story (unless said/noted otherwise). All other characters belong to Namco. No further disclaimers will be entered, as they ruin the pace of the story.

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Author's Note: It's that time of the year again… New "Me" fic. And it is _**absolutely**_ **the last one.** No amount of ":D omg plz do it!" will get me to do a Tekken 7 one lol. The idea was originally put forth by an old friend of mine named _Dynasty021 _back in the "Better Than Me" days, and I thought "…fuck it" and started writing a little bit of it during "With Me" (and then panned it out more as time went on lol).

I want to make it _absolutely clear_ that **this will not follow Tekken 6 canon **like my past stories, and it goes off of Jin's Epilogue (in "With Me"). When I started writing this, there was no indication to how _any _of the characters' stories or endings played out – we only (at the time) had the little CGIs and story intros and whatnot. So this is entirely an interpretation of what could've happened. I've not finished writing this fic due to Uni commitments (old fans of mine would know I'd finish the fic first, THEN start posting it), but I'm far enough ahead to start posting. But yeah, I hope you guys enjoy this. This is the last time you'll all be reading about Razer and Seong-Hada, etc etc.

And one last thing… **happy birthday, AmberAnodyne** :3

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_**Chapter One: Echo**_

Darkness covered all.

She ran a hand along her side, shivering at her own touch, biting her lip fiercely. Even though the stroke was gentle, it was regardlessly painful. She tried hard to ignore it, tried to pretend that it was merely a figment of her imagination, or that the injury was bestowed upon her from a fall, or a misplaced kick. But it wasn't. She sighed.

The silence was disturbed.

Sound lightly echoed between the bathroom walls. Razer looked up from her side and peered into her silhouette in the mirror, frowning. She stared long and hard at the 21-year-old she had become. Only a year had passed since the King Of Iron Fist Tournament 5, but for the last half of it, it felt like so much longer. A tick of the clock dragged on for hours. Half a second was an eternity. Time's effects on her were clear to those closest.

She changed. At the end of the last tournament, she had changed so, so much, for the better. The devil gene mark, once branded soundly upon her hip, had entirely faded away in the year that past, once Angel came through – once the shadows of the corrupt angel had vanished. She was no longer helpless and powerless. If anything, she was _helped. _But…

She extended her shaking right hand and pressed it against the mirror. It was cold to touch, though it did not deter her. She ran her finger along the side of her face in her reflection, shaking her head with disgust. She breathed in and out harshly, firmly, still in deep thought. Eventually, her finger reached her chin, where it stopped. Forest green eyes looked harder.

_How could I let this happen?_

Her face morphed into a scowl. She clenched her fist, her knuckles barely touching the surface. She bit her lip, wishing she could answer herself. But for the last six months, those words reverberated in her mind constantly, with or without the angel within's help. She still had no answer, and that alone infuriated her, let alone her suffering.

_Why did I let this happen?_

She didn't know, she didn't know. That also ran through her mind continuously, seeking an answer desperately. Alas, nothing came to mind, and she was left to ponder this on her own. As hard as she thought, she could not come up with an answer, let alone a solution. It constantly eluded her. Sometimes she thought she had the answer, and then it would simply leave, or a new twist on the situation would occur, leaving her far away from the truth.

She was just running around in circles, like a guinea pig, following his sick game.

With an anguished howl, she slammed her fist into the mirror, watching the shards of the mirror, of herself, fly everywhere. They jumped from their former design, scattering themselves through the air, and all over the floor and sink. They were strewn in meaningless patterns, gleaming from their places like little beady stars as blood silently rained down in steady drops.

Her fist remained against the wall, red smearing the white, like faded ink on white paper. Her teeth were gritted closely together and her breathing was erratic and shaky, from anger, sadness and pain. It was difficult, trying to keep it silent, but regardless, she tried. She didn't need to be heard by anyone in this cavernous hell.

Why did you lash out? Angel asked slowly and sorrowfully. She already knew the answer.

The sadness soon took over, capturing her wholly. The Greek's head dropped, looking down at the sink through cloudy eyes. Her hand uncurled itself, leaving a palm imprint on the wall, even as it slid down, like the rest of her body. She fell to her knees, still looking down, her bleeding hand hovering over the sink, the other clutching the edge of it.

What did you see in the mirror?

_Something… I said… I would never allow to occur again…_

Victim.

She breathed in a sob, tears trickling down at a tantalisingly slow pace. Her body was tired and weak. A firm knock at the door soon arrived, once again shattering the silence in the room. The sound echoed like her sigh had done previously. She did not lift her head or answer, and the moonlight that was shining in through the window seemingly began to fade.

Are you afraid to face yourself?

"Ma'am?"

Her lips slightly parted, she breathed in, still staring blankly at the floor. Her light brown hair draped over her shoulders, covering her face like a curtain. Her dark green tracksuit pants did little to mask the cold tiles of the floor, and her light green, slightly-oversized t-shirt couldn't shield her violent trembling. She tried her best to cover her cries.

_That person in the mirror is not who I am today. I do not see an adult woman, smiling like she should._

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

At that comment, she could not help but chuckle slightly under her breath. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the dizziness she was currently feeling. Her left hand gripped the edge of the sink tightly, just for something to do. She was desperate for a distraction, just _desperate. _She had been for a very long time, but it never came.

Then what do you see?

The door was opened hurriedly. The maid who had been tapping away at the door entered the room cautiously, and was clearly confused by the darkness. She flicked on the light switch and then looked back to the woman on the floor, releasing an ear-splitting scream at the sight, her heart lurching and racing. More people's footsteps were heard pattering down the hall, wondering what the commotion was, wondering why their fellow worker had shrieked.

They rushed to her, saying things she couldn't understand. Their voices blurred into one, undistinguishable sound as they tried to tend to her injury and clean up the mess. The original maid had shouted something, either to chastise her or to have one of her other friends call for an ambulance. The depth of the injury was out of their knowledge.

They tried to move her, though she wouldn't budge. Athane's hair was moved out of the way, as though checking for a pulse. These people panic too much. The light from above her was blinding, even with closed eyes, and she couldn't help but close then tighter, her face scrunching up in the effort. She was questioned, but she remained mute.

_That person in the mirror is who I was a long time ago. I see a child, crying helplessly, hiding for her life.

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He couldn't ignore a tingling sensation in his right hand.

No matter how many times Jin shook his hand, the feeling was not removed. No matter how many times he wiggled his fingers, it did not leave. He tried to ignore it as he stood on the podium, his chocolate brown eyes scanning the sea of people standing before him, ready to serve him. The Tekken Force's size had vastly increased since the Fourth Tournament, which was the last time he had ever seen them prior to his ascension.

"My loyal servants! You have done well," he crowed into the microphone, tapping his fingers on the wood. The tingling sensation was still there, varying in its strength. For a brief moment, he wondered what was going on back home to his girlfriend to have caused this. Their mental connection was strong, after all, "Countless times you are met with a challenge, and united as one, and you overcome them with such effortlessness.

"Only three countries stand against our cause now – America, Russia and China. Everyone else is under our control, forced to obey my command. It is because of _you _that the rest of the world is enslaved. They have all fallen under the Mishima Zaibatsu's command, and it is that way, clasped tightly in my hand, that they shall stay. Many lives, on their side and ours, have been lost… but it is for the greater reason. Their deaths will be the foundation of a _new _world. And you, my loyal servants, will be the guardians of this world… And I will forever be your master.

"China is the closest to our home base of Japan, so we must strike them next. The Chinese Division of the Mishima Zaibatsu has already begun breaking down the government from the inside, so we must now send in you, the Tekken Force, to smite the mighty nation. A majority of their military have been destroyed from well placed bomb strikes, and their people are fearful of us already. All we have to do now is take them for ourselves. Are you with me?"

A firm cheer erupted from them, but he was not stupid. The 22-year-old knew that they were not enthusiastic. No, they were _terrified. _They only sided with him in hopes of him sparing their family and friends, _not _because they actually believed in his cause. To have an army of frightened soldiers was perfect, because they would do _exactly _as he said. They were too scared to realise that if they united _against _him, that they _then _might have a chance.

But anyone who thought of the idea had been immediately killed by he himself. There had only been four attempts at a rising rebellion so far, and he had personally murdered the leaders. Any discord that they had rattled throughout the ranks had been immediately ceased thereafter, and life returned to their terrifying norm, for those in the force. They resumed living their lives in fear and wonder, whispering under their breath the reasons they were doing this.

His right hand clenched. It was still tingling, and it was getting on his nerves.

He moved aside from the podium and looked out amongst the Tekken Force, a sly smirk on his soulless face. Standing straight, he observed for a few moments longer, watching as silence swept amongst them all. He raised his left hand in a stiff salute, holding it in place against his brow, and within a few moments, everyone else before him were in the same stance with the same salute.

He held it as they disbanded into their groups under the commands of their Captains. Soon enough, the place before him was empty, and the only people that remained were those on the podium with him, standing by his side, or waiting for him off stage. His hand dropped as he turned away, making his own exit with his personal guard and one of the more reliable Tekken Force members at his side.

Nina Williams and Eddy Gordo looked at one another for a moment before looking back at their employer. They noticed him clench his right hand and shake it vigorously for the umpteenth time today. It was the former assassin who decided to speak first, clearing her throat, "Mr Kazama, are you alright? You don't seem yourself."

The Japanese man nodded briefly, sticking both hands in the pockets of his trench coat, "I am fine. I am going to return to my home now. The two of you are free to spend the rest of the day as you see fit. I will see you at the Zaibatsu Throne Room tomorrow at nine in the morning, where you will resume your duties. Do _not _be late."

He ignored whatever statements followed and made his way to his motorbike, which was idly waiting for him nearby. It was a product of the Zaibatsu, designed by none other than himself, and in a true, Mishima fashion, he organised it so he was the only one with the machine. Quickly mounting it, he turned it on and fished his sunglasses out of his pocket. With one last look to the two, former Tournament participants, he was off, going back home.

I wonder what trouble your idiot girlfriend has gotten herself into this time, Devil mused.

The real Jin, powerlessly locked deep within his own mind, murmured weakly, _Leave her alone…_

Devil chuckled verbally, though spoke to his host mentally. It had been roughly six months since he had gained full control, and day after day, he made the most of it. He had successfully made the change over when she was in Greece for a month with Hwoarang, on whatever personal quest. And consequently, lie after lie after lie cultivated a break in Jin's defence, and through this, Devil seized him entirely.

The woman had no idea.

_I won't allow you to keep doing this… _he growled angrily, struggling against the metaphorical, mental chains.

He laughed again, speeding through the streets with ease. The cars that passed him were like meaningless and deranged blurs, as though a child had dipped its finger into paint and drawn a wobbly line across a piece of paper, or alternatively a wall, You won't 'allow' me to keep doing this? _Fool… _You have no _choice. _

He sighed, realising that he was right. He had been fighting the entity for six, long, hard months, and he was not any closer to gaining control than he was previously. He felt miserable and alone, but what was the worst of all was being able to _hear _and _see _everything. The death, the pain, the wounds. The agonising screams, the hate-filled cries, the sobbing whimpers…

He was standing for everything he was against.

Scream for me, Kazama. Let me hear your pain. No one will hear you.

The 22-year-old hissed angrily, tugging at the chains once more.

Devil laughed for the third time, weaving through the lanes and cars.

His arms slacked, giving way to the pressure. He had been fighting him all day, and he was so, so tired. He wanted nothing more than to scream out in anguish and hope to God that someone else would hear it; though he knew that if he did, Devil would simply see it as another victory. And after all, he was merely an echo of his former self now. An idea, a _sound _bouncing between the walls of his mind helplessly.

He looked up, staring into space idly, biting his lip fiercely, whispering, _Help me._


	2. Stain

Author's Note: …I'm being generous, but only because its Amber's birthday!

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_**Chapter Two: Stain**_

"Miss?"

One of the servants is trying to get your attention, Angel murmured, You should answer her.

Razer hesitated for a moment before following the entity's advice, "Yes, Miyako?"

The girl, only seventeen, came and sat next to her master's girlfriend. They were sitting outside in the courtyard, serene silence swallowing all. There were no leers here, no unfriendly or unwanted jests being thrown about. It was a peaceful place, where most, if not all of the Mishima Mansion's residents took refuge when a day's work weighed them down, amongst other things.

Athane had come here to try and clear her mind. It was foggy with pain, something she should've been used to by now, but slamming her fist into the mirror last night caused a pain that refused to dull, even with a small dose of morphine at the hospital. However, ache wasn't the only thing clouding her thoughts, she realised not so long ago.

"How are you feeling today?"

She drifted back and looked at Miyako, lazily speaking, "A bit better."

"Oh, that is good, that is good!" she smiled and clapped her hands together in a childish manner, "You're recovering!"

She tried to smile back, particularly at her optimism, but she couldn't find the heart to. Instead, she shrugged and leant back in the chair a little, observing the wounded hand. The white bandage was firmly wrapped around her hand, concealing some stitches, though most of the cloth couldn't be seen due to the long-sleeve, dark grey shirt she was wearing to hide other things.

It hurt to move her fingers, something that she was surprised about. She thought that only her pinkie finger would hurt, but no, they all did. It took her a while to find out why, and it was because of the impact and also the glass shards that had previously been ebbed in them as a consequence. Furthermore, her hand was still shaking violently – it was still in shock, and would be for another day or so in her opinion. Angel was slowly helping the healing process.

Beneath all the medical work, it was still bleeding. The more the wound was bugged, poked, prodded or moved in general, the more it would bleed. It had soaked through the initial set of bandages, so she set to work on re-bandaging it with a clean set of bandages, if only to disguise the stain that had long since appeared on the original cloth.

"Your friend called earlier."

"Who?"

"A man named Steve Fox. But you were asleep so I told him you would call back later. He sounded so, so sad though," Looking away from the garden before her, she refocused her gaze on the woman sitting next to her, "A shame about what is happening to the world. We fall further and further into war. Pure, honest, happy smiling is a rarity. Everyone is sad, be it because of losing their jobs, losing a loved one or just… letting the world take their heart…" she fiddled with her petite hands, "I wonder exactly _what _Master Kazama is planning with this… evil."

_What indeed, _she thought quietly, curling up slightly in her seat. She didn't want to talk or think about it.

Miyako stood and brushed herself off, "Well I should get back to work. See you at dinner, Miss."

Athane nodded her head slightly in silent good bye, not turning to watch the young girl leave. She maintained her blank expression and continued staring into space, occasionally testing her hand by clenching it, only to shrink back and leave it limp once more. She rested her forehead on her knees and closed her eyes, sighing, still searching for an answer (that did _not _elude her) to her two, old questions.

_How_ could she have let this happen, and _why_ she let this happen. The two main questions that constantly circled through her mind, which both she and Angel were trying to get an answer to. Though, there were others too, such as 'when did I allow myself to become so vulnerable' and 'what can I do to stop this that won't result in more pain to me or anyone else'. It was bad enough that this was happening to her, she didn't want anyone else to suffer either.

Bear the burden in silence, even if it could end up killing her.

But if it saved others, then it wasn't so bad… right?

That is what you thought once upon a time, Angel said quietly in a soothing tone. She longed to place a hand over her host's to comfort her, 'If I take all of this and live or die, at least she'll be okay. She'll be free'. Is that not what you said to yourself one night…? Yet sadly, your Mother still died painfully at the hands of a monster.

Though listening to the entity within, she heard approaching footsteps and sucked in a breath quietly. Curling up more in her seat, she brought her arms across her legs, pulling them closer towards her body in a defensive position. Due to the movement, her sleeves pulled up slightly, and the cold air harshly kissed the wounds.

She sees what happens. You know she does. I am sure if she could contact you somehow from beyond the grave… she would tell you to run far, far away, and as fast as you can. She would not want you to make the same mistake she did, and hang around, thinking that you could change the man that caused you so much grief. Do not let your love for Jin blind you. What he is doing is wrong. He may be controlling the world, but just because he stands at the top of the highest mountain does not give him permission to throw you off the peak…

She was suddenly grabbed by the shoulders. Jumping to her feet, Razer set herself up for a back roundhouse kick, her heel slamming into the person's stomach, winding them. A surprised cry was accompanied with a gasp for air, and as she turned around to push the person aside and run for the exit, she stopped entirely, all defensive mechanisms obliterated in an instant.

Too wrapped up in her fear, she had attacked someone else instead. Rushing towards the person, she pressed a hand over their's, which was carefully guarding the wounded area, and placed her other hand on their shoulder in silent support, still shaking from the initial adrenaline rush. She spoke quietly, "Hwoarang, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

The Blood Talon said nothing, trying to gather air back into his lungs, clearly surprised at her outburst. His eyes were closed, and finally, he spoke, standing a little taller, "Jesus Raze… Remind me next time not to give you a surprise hug. I didn't need that kick, I'm already tender there from my spar with Seong-Hada this morning."

She let go of him, placing her wounded hand behind her back and spoke softly, "I am sorry, I wasn't really with it."

"It's alright," he said, no longer in shock from the attack. He smiled, standing at full height, and scratched the back of his head, "We all have off days. But anyway," he walked past her and looked around the area, noticing the little bird fountain in the corner, and the abundance of trees and shrubs, "What're you doing out here? Aren't you cold?"

She came and stood next to him on his left, "I'm not cold, not really. And I was bored, so I decided to sit out here."

"How can you be bored here?" he crowed, bewildered. He turned to look at her, sienna eyes full of surprise, and began counting on his hands, "You have a giant tv with every known channel on Earth, you've got every up-to-date console, you've got a kick ass computer, you've got all sorts of paints and canvases, you've got a piano, you've got a small exercise room and a full doja… dojo, you've got unlimited calls and all sorts of other things in this damn mansion, and you're _bored?_"

"This house may seem like a palace to you, but to the people living in it, it's just… it's just a home."

"A home with _very _cool stuff in it, thank you very much. And you're not using any of it properly."

The 21-year-old idly shrugged her shoulders and turned away, heading inside. She was getting bored out here as well, and it was probably best to go back inside anyway. At least she had someone to talk with and do stuff with, as opposed to servants who feared their Master day in and day out, and occasionally spoke with her out of sympathy.

The mood turned into a sombre one quickly. He spoke, still facing the garden before him, his serious tone cutting through the former friendliness. His hands found themselves in the pockets of his jeans, and he heard all movement behind him cease, indicating that she had stopped moving entirely, "Why weren't you at training today?"

"I forgot."

"You're lying."

"No one asked you to believe me."

He bit his lip and looked down to the ground, "Tell me the truth this time, would you?"

"I can't."

He clenched his fists in his pockets and looked over his shoulder, seeing her look back in the same manner, "Razer, I'm your best friend. I'm… I'm your big brother… or I may as well be. And I don't want you to lie to me. I _know _that you don't _want _to lie to me either, yet you still do. So ignore whatever pesky little… thing is stopping you from telling me, and just tell me, like you _actually _want to."

"I can't!"

Inwardly sighing, the Korean turned around wholly and walked over towards her. She remained in place, watching, until he was standing directly behind her, turning her around by her shoulder. They looked at each other for a good, long moment before his hand swiftly dropped down and lightly grabbed her left forearm, lifting it into plain view before both of them. The sleeve dribbled down slightly, revealing more of the bandage. It was his silent way of saying 'as if I didn't notice'.

His eyes, though narrowed, remained locked onto her forest green ones for a few moments, before they drifted off to the apparent wound. He could see blood crawling through the white, like faded ink, daring to get to freedom, leaving a nasty stain in its wake, going through everything in its path. It was clear to him that there was yet another bandage below the visible one. His time in the army enabled him to recognise such a thing immediately.

He took his free hand and hurriedly moved it to her fingers. Taking her pinkie finger, he bent it back slowly, his gaze now on her face, watching to see her crack, despite the cruel means. She was biting her tongue fiercely, trying to keep her from manoeuvring out of his hold or from crying out in pain. However, it didn't take long for her to initiate the latter, looking away and closing her eyes, now biting her lip.

His point proven, Hwoarang stopped his little exercise, releasing the finger from its small torment, and clamped his index finger around it in a comforting manner. He waited for a moment before speaking, "I didn't pull it very far, you know. I know it can go back much, much further. Is this why you didn't come today?"

"Yes."

"Then you should've called."

Razer dully shrugged and moved to get away, but he tugged on her finger gently, getting her to stay in place. She looked at him through narrowed eyes, trying to hide the pain from the one person who knew her best. She searched for something to say, but was met with nothing, which was frustrating. Yes, she should've called, but so what?

"So," he began, twisting the arm around gently to get a better look at the hand as a whole, "Explain this to me."

"I… punched some wood wrong."

"You're lying," he growled through his teeth.

"I am not lying."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not!"

"We've broken stone with our fists before," he countered, "And you had no problem with them _or_ wood."

You are being cornered, Angel warned, swallowing.

"There _is _wood in a mirror, you know."

He looked up at her, "You punched a mirror?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was angry and upset."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

He rolled his eyes and dropped her hand, sighing, "Fuck's sake…"

"Can we not talk about this, please?" she asked timidly, looking to her feet, walking towards the exit, "I already feel horrid for doing it in the first place… Come on, you are here with me, and seeing as there is so much to do in this vast home, let us go find something to occupy our time instead of petty bickering about unimportant issues."

He hesitated for a moment before nodding and following her inside, closing the door behind him silently. Aside from wondering why she didn't show up to training, he _did _originally come here to have some fun and spend some time with her. He missed her a lot, and though he saw her every single day, it just wasn't being the same as having her with him every waking moment.

"So what did you get up to today?" Razer inquired, breaking up the silence. She looked over her shoulder, noticing that the 'protection' gaze had set in once more. She knew that he knew something was going on in this house, and he was clearly trying to work out what it was, whether by merely observing or actually being in the place. He had asked her at least once a week for the last two months directly, saying how she had changed, and always saying –

"You know I'm here if you need to talk, right?"

She nodded. There it was, the inevitable 'I'm here', "I know."

"And I _mean _about anything. Like, in the last year, look how much closer we've become."

That was true. The very few things that they didn't know about each other had finally been revealed. Their darkest secrets, their most private memories and activities were out in the open. They now _literally _knew everything about each other, from their childhood individually and together, to what one was doing in the streets when the other wasn't there. From various after-school activities from whenever (who knew Hwoarang had once taken _dancing _lessons, and _enjoyed _it?), to things that one would tell a lover.

One thing was kept inside.

"I can't help but feel that you're hiding something from me, though. And I want you to tell me."

"I am not hiding anything."

_Liar…_

The silence left a darker stain.

Athane cleared her throat, "Back to my original question. What did you get up to today?"

"Work. What did you think? Sitting around on my ass all day having a wank?"

"I was kinda expecting 'wanking all day at work'."

"No. Like I'm gonna fucking wank behind a _cash register._"

He was a checkout boy. Whilst Seong-Hada worked as a chef at the Italian Restaurant, and whilst Baek taught students, Hwoarang was scanning food and other basic items. He had a minimal education and didn't care to use it, so he settled for the most basic job there was. However, because he was out in the community more, he learnt Japanese quite quickly – the fastest out of the foreigners. He was quite fluent in the language, and was surprisingly proud about it.

As for the others, Baek didn't care to learn it. He figured that if he had maybe one or two phrases, English, and a translator (be it Hwoarang or someone like Xiaoyu) then he'd get around just fine. Seong-Hada, as always, was struggling learning a new language, but he was getting around it easier than he had initially with English simply because Korean and Japanese were so similar both in words and grammatical structures. Razer's knowledge of the local vernacular was as vast as her Korean vocabulary, which was quite small. She had a similar approach to Baek.

The Greek grinned slyly and moved to sit on the couch. She took up the remote with her free hand, turning on the enormous television that was mounted on the wall opposite to her, "I still think you would manage to find a way to do it."

"Grow up, Raze."

He took up a seat next to her and pried the control lazily from her hand, flicking through the channels at lightning fast speed. Silence seeped in again, choking them at an agonisingly slow pace. The flickering light from the screen did little to break it up and alleviate the tension. To make matters worse, out of alllll the channels, there was absolutely _nothing _on.

"How about we play a game? You know, like Mario Kart racing or something," Hwoarang suggested.

She looked at him with a sad face and lifted her right hand, trying to clench it, "Sorry."

"Oh yeah… Well that sucks. What about we get a pack of playing cards? We can play snap. I won't look at your cards."

"Nah."

"I know! We can prank Seong-Hada at work!" he started to look around rapidly and happily, "Where's your phone…"

"Can't we just talk?"

He looked back at her, noticing how her gaze was to the floor. Nodding slightly, he took a cushion from beside him, leant to his right, and cuddled the item, still looking at her, "Sure. I mean we chewed up nine years of time by talking. Certainly wouldn't hurt to talk today, and we can start with you telling me what's been going on lately."

She looked up at him, her wounded hand resting on her stomach. She remained slouched in the chair, the other arm propped up on the arm rest beside her, "Look… It's not that I _don't _want to tell you. I _do _want to tell you what is going on. _I know _I have changed. Do you think I _enjoy _having to see it, let alone live through my alterations? But that's beside the point… I am _deliberately _not telling you for your safety, alright…?"

"I've told you time and time again – to me, your safety is more important than mine. So pretend that whatever… threat to me doesn't exist and just spit it out already. I've got a sneaking suspicion that the threat isn't real anyway."

"Trust me, it is very real. It may even cost you your life by some means, however insane that sounds."

"Just tell me! I'm not gonna fucking disappear!"

"No, you'd be killed instead! I've already lost you once, Hwoarang! I can't lose you again!"

He shifted uncomfortably as scenes from the fight with Jinpachi flashed through his mind. Silence blanketed them again and trembled throughout the room. The dull, low murmurs from the television did little to settle the flaring feelings and haunting memories. Just useless background noise, present without a primary purpose. Both vaguely heard some cheesy laughter drift in, as though the program was subconsciously trying to lighten the mood.

Leaning forward, he reached out a hand and placed it on her thigh, trying to get her attention. She looked towards him, eyes narrowed. For a moment, he swore he could see her own memories in her eyes, but he dismissed it as sheer stupidity. His hand now lingered near her face. He longed to touch it as he whispered, "What could be so horrible that you can't tell me?"

She said nothing again and bit her lip, noticing his gaze drift for a moment before refocussing on her eyes. Biting the bullet, she leant into the hovering touch and closed her eyes, smiling. An escape, at long last, and however small. Although he had still been there everyday, it just… wasn't the same. His constant company, and visa versa, had left a stain on the both of them, one that couldn't be removed.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Both smiled slightly at the statement that Angel said to the two of them, though both were unaware of the other's reason behind it.

He dropped his hand eventually, and she opened her eyes, looking back to the hand in her lap, "…Thanks."

"For what?"

"Being here."

"You're welcome."

He noticed her smile slightly, before it faded away almost instantly. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, wondering why, but before long, a chill crawled down his spine, causing him to freeze up. The voice that wavered into the room afterwards only added to the uncomfortableness of the situation, and as it did enter, he noticed his best friend's head fall further down, and her expression morph into one of silent trepidation.

"Hwoarang, may I ask the motive for your visit?"

The Blood Talon looked over his shoulder, seeing none other than Jin Kazama standing a few feet behind them, his muscly arms cloaked in his trench coat, and folded across his chest. His head was tilted back, looking down on them both with daunting curiosity and distaste. He looked as though he had a rough day already, and judging by the partially disordered appearance of himself (which was not normal), it appeared he may have been chased after by G-Corporation once again.

The livid look on his face was further intimidating the two of them, however he was not as phased as Razer was. He clenched his hand around the cushion that was still on his stomach and answered slowly and firmly, trying to show that he was not affected by his current disposition and manner, "I'm not allowed to visit my best friend? I've got full access to the Mansion at any time, as you agreed when you moved in here. But anyway I came to ask why she wasn't at training, and then stayed to hang out."

Jin's expression morphed into a blank one as he turned to look at his girlfriend. He spoke powerfully, and it was clear that he had not exactly gotten out of 'work mode' yet, where this was undoubtedly necessary, "And did you tell your dear Blood Talon _why _you could not attend your training lesson with him and his fellow Korean accomplices?"

"Yes, Jin," she replied.

The corner of his lips turned up slightly into a smirk. He walked by them, into another room, "Very good."

Sienna eyes watched until he was gone, and before long, he looked back to a seemingly relieved Razer. He furrowed his eyebrows once more, trying to figure out what was going on here, but to no avail. The more he thought on it, the harder and more complex it seemed, causing vast amounts of frustration to bubble up inside.

"I think you should go," she stated.

Hwoarang blinked, perplexed, and looked down, "If you want me to, sure."

"It is best."

He nodded, placing the cushion back to where it was, and leant across to hug her. She returned it with her good arm, and very lightly, "I'll see you tomorrow then. Come down to the dojang, even if you don't actually train. We can hang out there for a while and stuff, y'know? We can pull SH's hair till the cows come home. Maybe we can invite Xiao and Mi as well and just all have dinner or something, and play Twister."

"We will see."

Always cautious, always unsure. Almost the same as the little girl from so long ago.

Smiling a bit, he kissed her cheek lightly before patting her back and standing. He turned away to leave, trying hard not to look at her face, because it was always her departing look that broke him a little more inside. One of the maids came and accompanied him out, opening the front door and sending him on his way, bidding him farewell.

The hums of the motorbike were soon out of earshot. Athane sat there rigidly, biting her lip and trying to keep her breathing even. Sometimes she wondered how life would have been if she chose what she wanted deep, deep down. It certainly wouldn't be like _this, _that's for sure. And she'd be _happy. _She wanted to be happy again. She didn't want to hold up a mask, fake joy, and then remove the entire charade once more.

"Come here."

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling Kazama's hands slither onto her shoulders. One slid down her arm, clamping down fiercely, and, to alleviate the pain, she indeed stood, obeying his wishes though she had been manipulated to. She did not turn to face him, even as she shivered at the breathy, dark voice by her ear.

"He still loves you, and you still love him."

_Not again –_

Just close your eyes and pretend this isn't the man you care about.

"How many more times must I beat it out of you?"

Her eyes squeezed shut. She swore she could hear her heart pumping in her ears.

Just close your eyes and ignore the bloody stains and painful bruises he will leave on your fragile body.

A hand covered her mouth to prevent an anguished sob. Pain spiked in her side as knuckles dug into her skin.


	3. Gem

_**Chapter Three: Gem **_

_I wish I could fight back._

You can't. You will end up in a worse condition than if you simply surrendered. Remember what happened last time?

Razer sighed in silent defeat and turned her head, looking to the man sleeping beside her. His black hair was fuzzed out all over his pillow, and he was facing away from her, leaving the Greek with nothing but muscled and scarred skin to stare at. She saw the two, fierce scars ebbed in the middle of his shoulders, which were from various transformations, and smiled slightly to herself. She didn't have those anymore.

Jin shuffled a little bit in his sleep, trying to get more comfortable, before lying still once again. A day of being chased by Kazuya and G-Corporation took a lot out of him, and it was quite possible that he'd go through it again in the coming day. He had been hit with a few fragments from the explosion on the bridge, though fortunately they weren't too serious. The main one was a cut across his forehead, which had been long since tended to.

Try and go back to sleep, Angel suggested groggily, It is four in the morning.

She had been awake for almost an hour, and couldn't fall back asleep. Opting against the angel within's suggestion, she peeled back the bed covers and shakily stood, smoothing out her night dress carefully, before creeping towards the door. Beside it were his and her slippers. Not really caring about whether or not her feet would be warm, she opened the door quietly and shut it behind her, heading downstairs.

Now in the kitchen, she opened the cupboard, grabbed the bread and honey, and lumbered towards the cutlery section for a butter knife. She decided to have a bite to eat and watch some television in the lounge room until she fell asleep. Lying next to the man who had turned on her after Hwoarang's leave wasn't appealing to her. As long as she was quiet and did not disturb anyone in the house, especially Jin, she'd be okay.

She moved past the table, noticing a piece of paper idly sitting there. Curiosity betrayed her, and she picked it up, leaving her food there, and went to put the other food, which was no longer required, away. Her eyes widened slightly as she scanned over the English section, absorbing every word with noticeable surprise. It was a blueprint for a flyer.

'_The King Of Iron Fist Tournament 6._

_Test your strength as a fighter._

_Fulfil your destiny as a warrior._

_Prepare to be fiercely challenged._

_Sign-ups end 28__th__ of October._

_Tournament starts on the 4__th__ of November._

_Meet in Tokyo Park.'_

Shaking her head slightly, she placed the item back on the table and retreated to the lounge room, food in hand. Taking a bite of the half-assed meal she had prepared, she sat on the couch ungracefully, one leg propped up, and the other was simply stretched out. Idly throwing a hand to her right, she searched for the control, and once she located it, she turned the television on and flicked through a few channels.

Deciding to settle on some drama program, she tucked into her food once more, hoping that the soft sound from the unit would distract her from the various things running about in her head. Fortunately, it was on the recent discovery, not on the events that had transpired hours earlier. Why exactly was Jin holding a tournament right now? He was already drowning in mountains upon mountains of work. He didn't need the extra stress.

Perhaps he is trying to flush out his enemies.

_Yeah, that sounds like him… _At that realisation, Razer frowned slightly, lowering the hand that that had food.

What is the matter? Angel queried.

_A bunch of unfortunate people are going to get in his way, and he will eliminate them all just to get to Kazuya or Heihachi… _her head dropped, observing the meal. She tapped the plate, hearing it ring slightly, _He is going to power through everyone, without a care in the world, so long as he gets to those two and destroys them._

Just like everyone else before him, and everyone that will be after him. You yourself have been a victim of such determination. The 3rd Tournament saw you severely beaten by Heihachi, and the 5th Tournament saw you almost murdered by Devil Jin's bloodstained claws. And if not you, then others. Hwoarang suffered greatly to Kazuya twice. In the 4th Tournament he was beaten, and in the 5th, though he won, the injuries to his leg and ribs from both tournaments essentially dragged him down for the remaining matches.

She remembered helping him sit up properly during the 4th Tournament, watching him slowly pass out before her eyes. Although they were fighting at the time, she couldn't hide the concern when her eyes ran over amethyst bruises and garnet cuts ebbed into his body. And she absolutely _refused _to recollect the closing memories of the previous tournament.

Her eyes wandered over towards her cellphone, which was sitting nearby. Grabbing it and turning it on, she decided to send Hwoarang a message. He loved hearing about this type of stuff, and knowing him, he would unquestioningly join the tournament, even if there was actually no reason behind it this time. The only one that he would be able to justify it would be as a test of his strength, if he was asked by someone such as Baek.

Quickly, the message was typed up and sent:

'_jin's holding another tourney. saw the flyer on the table just now.'_

Before long, a reply had arrived. Surprised, she observed it and began a text war.

'_already? it's only been 1 yr since the 5__th__ one. well, count me in. any excuse 2 fight in 1 of these things is good enough 4 me.'_

'_i didn't expect a reply so fast from u. what r u doin up?'_

'_i could ask u the same question.'_

She hesitated.

'_couldn't sleep.'_

'_well neither could i. just got back from the training area. been up 4 an hr and a bit practicing in boredom.'_

'_i'm just watchin tv. there's nothing really on, btw.'_

'_i can c that. all these damn dramas… its almost 5am, where's the fuckin porn?'_

'_XD go online and c some then, if ur that desperate 4 it.'_

'_or alternatively u could take pix of urself + send em 2 me XD lololololololol'_

'_oh stfu. cow.'_

'_god, i'm only joking… anyway can i call or wat?'_

'_no don't, i don't wanna wake anyone up.'_

'_fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. wat r u doin now?'_

'_same as b4, same as b4.'_

'_i wonder y he's holding another tourney. he hates these things. any ideas?'_

'_no idea.'_

She didn't feel her phone vibrate in her lap after her message. She was too busy observing her own amethyst bruises in the dull light of the flickering television, turning her arm this way and that. They awkwardly gleamed upon her skin, like a prized gem, though they were far from that. She couldn't hold them up and go 'look at these treasures'. She had to hide in the darkness, away from the light, so that they wouldn't shine and be spotted.

Biting her lip and slouching further in her seat, Razer pulled her arms closer to her body and curled up slightly. She wondered if she would be allowed to enter the tournament, and if so, for what reasons. For the past six months, she had been limited in a lot of aspects. For example, she was no longer allowed out of the Mishima Mansion without an escort. Understandable, considering her technical position as the most powerful woman in the world, simply because she was the girlfriend of Jin Kazama. For someone on the outside, killing her to get to Jin would seem like a brilliant idea.

If anything, from the true, _inside_ perspective, she was one of the weakest women in the world. A doll hanging off his arm, with no personality or say whatsoever. A gem in his hand, simply being shown off, used as a decoy. No life, no freedom, no love, no respect. Void of all the things that _truly _made someone strong. Caged behind giant steel walls, bound by unbreakable chains, neglected and disrespected. And what was worse was that the few people who gave her such unconditional love were being monitored constantly on the way they express themselves, be they as a brother or Father.

Perfect insanity.

After so long, her eyes finally felt heavy, _But whatever the reason for all this is, it cannot be good.

* * *

_

"Ah, Razer! Welcome dear, welcome."

She smiled a little at Baek's fondness, watching as he stepped aside from the door and allowed her to enter. His wood-coloured eyes observed the two men who were standing behind her at the door, also wanting to come in. Dressed in full gear and overly armed, the two Tekken Force soldiers looked between one another before moving, going to step in.

"Your services are not needed," Athane hissed over her shoulder, moving through the training section of the dojang.

"The command of Lord Kazama cannot be overridden," one spat, his deep voice rumbling from his chest.

She stopped, now a full room opposite the two, who had since entered and were walking after her. With a frustrated sigh, she placed one hand on her hip. Her injured hand dangled limply by her side as her lips parted and she spoke again, her voice trying to be as precise and stiff as possible, "Consider this, then. By my side is a veteran Iron Fist fighter, who has competed in the 2nd and 5th Tournaments. I myself am an Iron Fist fighter, having competed in the 3rd, 4th and 5th Tournaments. Elsewhere in this dojang is the runner-up of the last tournament, who also participated in the 3rd and 4th ones. Do you not think that we on our own are suffice protection?"

The same soldier smirked slightly, his lips curving into a full sneer. He cleared his throat, changed the way he was holding his rifle, and stood a little taller, "One man alone and unarmed cannot save you from a volley of bullets."

"Stand outside," she growled, "_Now._"

The two of them shrugged and did so, guarding the entrance to the dojang. Baek closed the door quietly and locked it, thereafter looking to his student, and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, "You don't like living in the lime light, do you? All this attention just to meet up with your friends from a place that is only thirty minutes away from the Mansion."

"I hate it."

"It is clear that you do," he said, "And the tabloids are well aware of this fact."

"I know. I'm a popular topic, sadly," she looked to her teacher and smiled slightly, both her hands idly behind her back, "You are aware I will be unable to train for a while, right…? I assume Hwoarang told you of my hand injury."

"He has told me nothing of the sort…" Baek furrowed his eyebrows and stepped closer towards his student, "May I see?"

In a bored fashion, she extended her wounded hand and looked away, inspecting the dojang. It was different to the one that she and the Blood Talon grew up in, though there were a few similarities, such as the stools that were perfectly aligned before the kitchen countertop. In addition, the corridor leading down to the training section was wider, and all three, larger bedrooms were safely tucked away.

"This is very nasty, Razer."

"Had to go to hospital. But whatever," Hurriedly, she withdrew her hand and placed it behind her back once more. Her face had surprise painted on it, "I would have thought that Hwo would tell you. I mean, he deemed it serious."

"He's been pretty quiet when it comes to you lately. I mean, I _do _ask… He just never tells."

Angel smiled, Indirectly, he is protecting you.

"Anyway, he, Seong-Hada and Xiaoyu are out the back. They were having a barbeque earlier and were fending off their hunger for as long as they could, but they succumbed in the end. Hopefully you ate before you came here. I've got to get back to tidying the training area. The younger students are coming in very soon."

With a curt nod and a light pat on the shoulder, Doo San left the area and returned to his previous business. Biting her lip, she tugged her long, dark grey sleeves down once again, smoothed her fringe to one side and began to walk to the back veranda, where her friends resided. This place was her second home, so she knew exactly where to go.

Moving through the tidy-yet-still-messy-somehow room, Razer soon found herself in plain sight of her three friends. Seong-Hada noticed her through the glass door first, and put down his drink, waving rapidly with both hands. In turn, his antics caused the other two to turn and observe, one simply looking over his shoulder, and the other turning and opening the door, speaking, "Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazer!"

She moved a little quicker, trying to get to the small piece of paradise she had left, "Hey guys."

The Chinese girl and her 'little brother' jumped on her and gave her a light hug. She smiled slightly and returned each steadily and cautiously, before they moved out of the way. Giving them both a glimpse of the temporary smile, she inched over towards Hwoarang, who was watching her steadily, and stood on her toes to give him a friendly embrace, which was returned strongly.

"How's your hand?" he murmured almost inaudibly.

"Getting there," she replied, pulling away, looking at her feet. She turned to the others, "How are you two?"

Ling smiled and assumed her classic 'brave' pose, which consisted of her puffing her chest out and squarely slamming her hands on her hips. Her grin was wide and proud, and her brown eyes were narrowed, "_I, _Miss Athane, am doing brilliantly! I mean _come on. _I'm out of school and stuff! You won't hear me complaining about _anything _anymore, now that I'm out of that fucking hellhole!"

"What about your job selling clothes at that music store?" Seong-Hada queried, scratching his cheek.

In lightning fast motion, his arm was smacked. The 20-year-old cried out in pain and turned away, pouting, nursing the injury.

"**You know better than to question your **_**giiiiiiirlfriend**_**,**" Hwoarang drawled teasingly.

He stamped his foot and placed his hands on his hips, blushing, "**She's not my girlfriend!**"

"_**Yet.**_"

Opting against childishly insulting his former street-leader, the youth merely sighed and crossed his arms. The two girls looked at one another, eyebrows raised on both accounts, wondering what the exchange was about. An uncomfortable silence eventually entered for a minute or two, and most of them looked around awkwardly.

"Oh, Raze?"

She looked to Hwoarang, who was fiddling behind him, "Mm?"

He extended his arm, bearing a plate, which has some food on it, "I saved you some."

With a light smile, she took it and began to eat, despite the fact that she wasn't very hungry. Nodding her head appreciatively, she leant against the wall and ate in silence, whilst the rest of her friends began to talk once again. Their happy chatter was a welcome change from the morbid ones that were present at the mansion. It was good to get out in general. Being with them was something precious to her, like a gem. It made her forget what was going on.

Eventually, Baek came and joined them, also animatedly speaking. He had about ten or so minutes left before the students arrived. The conversation, as normal, mainly derived from Seong-Hada and Xiaoyu, with Baek pitching in every so often, and Hwoarang even less so than his master. Razer was simply quiet, though did express emotions by smiling or silently chuckling at whatever comment.

"So, Razer," Ling began, pressing her hands together lightly, "How's life been? I haven't seen or heard from you for ages!"

Placing the empty plate on the table beside her, she spoke, "Not too bad thank you. And yes, I've been… busy, so I apologise for not being able to hang out as often as I once could. Jin has been quite the busy body as well."

The 19-year-old smiled slightly and chose her words carefully, "As always, occupying himself. You'd expect him to be busy, considering he's pretty much the leader of the freaking world. All that responsibility… woo."

"Yeah, he's doing it tough…" she rubbed her arm and shivered slightly, before looking back up, now speaking to all of them, "What I don't understand is, however, why he has announced a 6th King Of Iron Fist Tournament."

Xiao, SH and Baek all looked at her with surprise. The latter spoke, "_Another _tournament? Why?"

"I do not know. I wish I did."

"Maybe he feels it is just time, and that he needs to live up to the standard of Heihachi and Kazuya before him. Release a tournament and show the world that the Zaibatsu is still the same as it ever was, just under… new management."

"Perhaps," she shrugged and looked to her feet, "I do not know _all_ the details as of yet, but we can sign up until the 28th of October. The actual preliminaries begin on the 4th of November in Tokyo Park. Considering it is currently the 24th of October, we have a few days to decide whether to sign up or not. I don't know if he is sending out invites."

"Considering what happened in the last tournament with Jinpachi, I don't think this tournament will have any other supernatural being at its conclusion…" Baek mused, oblivious to what _actually _occurred during that battle. He did not notice the sudden disheartened mood of the two older students and cleared his throat after hearing the front door bell, "Well, the kids are here. I'll see you guys later."

They waved goodbye, watching as he turned away from them, adjusted his dobok, and moved inside, heading towards the training section.

Seong-Hada was the first to break the silence. He inspected his watch and suddenly looked alarmed, "Xiao Xiao Xiao! We gotta get to work! I've gotta start in ten minutes, and you were supposed to start ten minutes ago!"

Ling shrieked and bolted through the dojang, "SH, you gotta drive me! Oh crap oh crap, I'm going to get fired for sure!"

The older two people smirked when they were out of sight and looked at each other, their expressions simply reading 'in time'. That is, soon enough, they'd probably be together. Since the Korean's introduction to the group, he had automatically grown closer and closer to the spunky girl because she made the effort to cheer him up after the unfortunate events at the hideout earlier on, and also because their personalities were strikingly similar.

Athane rubbed one of her eyes with her free hand and struggled to contain a yawn, clearly sleepy. She stretched a little in the process and looked to Hwoarang, who seemed amused. She furrowed her eyebrows, "What?"

"You never could stay up late without getting tired," he teased lightly, patting her head.

"Can I borrow your bed? I need to rest in it for a bit."

"My bed is your bed," he grinned, ushering her into the dojang, "Go make yourself at home. I'm gonna clean up this mess."

She said nothing and continued on her way. Soon enough, she was standing at the entrance to the corridor, looking down, seeing an array of students bow before Baek. She rested her hand on the door to her best friend's room, watching them for a little while longer, a small smile on her pale face.

A sea of white was before the only good Father figure she had. They intently listened to Doo San's thundering words and impressive exhibitions, and thereafter attempted the moves themselves. Many fell and stood once again, whilst others jumped up and down upon successful completion of the attack. The wizened man smiled at them all, moving over to each of those who did not complete the activity successfully and guiding them through it step by step. Of course, those who did it would also have to demonstrate, so he could give further pointers.

Turning away, she opened the door and walked into the messy room, shaking her head. The Blood Talon's clothes were strewn all over the floor, open bags were spilling forth contents, there were a few magazines here and there, and she saw his wrench for his motorbike sitting by the bed side table. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, moving into the area, organising some things for him. It was when she was putting stuff back in his backpack did she notice a photo album.

Opening the cover, she noticed that the first two shots were of Hwoarang and her, from the 3rd and 5th Tournaments. These photos were only taken two years apart, but it surprised her at how much maturity had manifested in their faces. Granted, the end of the previous tournament was a living hell, but it was still evidently there. The innocence they once had was slowly seeping away because of various life events.

Placing the item back in the bag, Athane climbed atop his bed and lay down on her right side. Directly opposite to her on the night stand was Hwoarang's older goggles, the one that his parents got him. He had bought a new pair, black ones with orangey glass, because he was terrified that the ones he had been wearing for all of his life so far would break, and he didn't want that. The usually lived on the back of the door – she guessed he moved them for a while. Smiling a little, she closed her eyes and tried to let sleep take hold of her. Slowly but surely, it did, and she was pleased with this fact. Sleep was needed.

The 22-year-old eventually entered and pulled his goggles down, letting them hang around his neck. He wiped sweat from his forehead and looked around, noticing the sudden change in his room. Realising what had occurred, he shook his head and grinned. His room wasn't _that _messy! God…It was fine. He could find things quickly if he needed them, no matter how disorganised the room was.

Taking off his sandals, he looked at the clock, observing the time. It was too early for him to take a nap, so he decided to grab a book he had been reading. It wasn't all that interesting, but it certainly made the minutes move faster. Noticing it had been moved to the bed side table, he strolled over silently and grabbed it, before sitting cross-legged next to his best friend, careful not to disturb her.

Before opening the novel, he looked to her, checking to see if everything was a-okay, and that there were no nightmares popping up. Pleased, he grinned slightly and brushed her splayed hair away from her face, watching as it now dripped over her shoulder. But it was as the curtain of light brown moved away did he notice something.

Leaning in closer, the Korean narrowed his eyes at a peculiar mark on Razer's neck. The colour was a haunting purple, like an amethyst. A glaring bruise. How did she manage to get one on her neck? The force required to create a bruise of that calibre would have been fairly strong, and the fact that the blow was landed on a fragile area –

His stomach twisted –

_Don't assume._

With his free hand, he stealthily lifted up the side of her shirt. The material peeled off half way up her body, leaving tanned skin to stare at, and a variety of shining injuries. A bruise here, a gash there, a small cut over on the right. Varying shapes, sizes and strengths, all littered in meaningless but fierce formations. Sadly, they looked fresh too. There were only two things he could think of that could've inflicted such things on her.

As he dropped the shirt and turned away, opening the book, he hoped to God that they were only training wounds.


	4. Bound

Author's Note: Your support so far is amazingly appreciated, guys! Thank you so much :3 I'm updating today because TeaC0sy is going to University in a few days (NO. NOOO YOU STAY HERE WITH ME AND WE GO LOLSY ABOUT YOOCHUNNNN DX DX DX XD), and souslalune's had a shit day. So here's to making both of their days/nights/etc a bit more happy? XD

* * *

_**Chapter Four: Bound**_

_A fist for a fist. For every punch given, one is received._

_Horns, locked in an eternal struggle for dominance. With every advancing step, there is a retreating one._

_And the world watches in silence. Millions upon millions of eyes stare. No mouth dares to open. No person dares to speak. Only one thought dares to wander in the minds of humanity, embodying two words that were chanted for every waking moment in the year of darkness, desolation, destruction and death. The only two words that were taught to every culture, to every language, to every religion, to every country. To every man, woman and child._

Save us.

_As one evil falls, another must stand in its place. Tear down the old establishment and cast off the slave shackles. Rejoice at the new freedom, shun the former leader, and send him to his death… only to suffer at the hands of another. Who knows, perhaps this new leader is crueller. Perhaps humanity was better off in the palm of the old leader._

_Still, neither will go down without a fight. Neither will stop until the other is dead, and until they have _everything _they want. They will shake the heavens and the Earth with every attack, and with every roar they will fight until either one of them has no breath left. Until someway, somehow… their foe is dead before them in a motionless heap._

_But stars don't 'go down'. They fade out._

_And as these two stars cross paths, they will fade into the background. The moon will stand out, shining and roaring, and nobody will pay attention to the minor details. It is these moments she plans to stop. She will stand before them, stop them from fighting one another, and this crisis will be adverted. But she doesn't know if she'll be able to. She's afraid._

_They glare at one another. She stands a little taller, trying to show that she is not afraid of him. She's never been afraid of men, for she has been around them all her life. They have bossed her and everyone else around continuously, and she has grown used to such a thing. It does not matter how tall or strong the man is, she will not submit to his will._

_A coy smirk playing on her features, she slips into stance, her hands moving backwards and forwards in a seemingly hypnotic manner. This is the last chance she has to stop him. But exactly which one of the stars is he? She can't see him too well. Maybe he isn't one of the stars she was aiming for to begin with… like she went astray. But regardless, if it is who she is looking for, or just another man; she must get past him._

_A noise, undistinguishable in this current frame of mind, echoes through, bouncing between the walls. It briefly reminds her of an alarm, or a bell. The blood rushes through her lithe form, and she attacks, spinning her body in a clockwise direction, with a raising arm. Her fingers, like claws, slash at her opponent; and he reels temporarily, clutching his wounded area. He counters, though, raising a leg and bringing it down, bending at the knee to buckle her._

_And buckle she does. The force of his heel sends her tumbling, but she forces herself to stand again, only in her low stance. Her opponent is confused for a moment, but then realises that she is going to attack. He defends, as her long arms spin this way and that, still clawing at him. Many have told her that her moves remind them of an arachnid of sorts, but few have had to face it head on. _

_And like the spider she has been associated with so much, she throws out her leg, tripping up her opponent. She stands tall once more, watching as her foe does as well; and moves to continue the fight. Strike after strike, she pushes forward, and he moves back, forever wary and unsure due to her unpredictable and unique movements. _

_Her attack chain is blocked all too soon._

_He grabs her arm and throws it aside swiftly, almost sending her off balance. With an array of punches and kicks, he sends her into submission. It's as though his attacks are endless and continuous… and she cannot help but feel a huge sense of dread building up in the pit of her stomach. The courage and confidence she had at the start of this fight dwindles into nothingness at an alarming rate. She doesn't think she can last much longer, let alone continue the fight._

_And as her courage withers, she cannot find the strength within herself to say two simple words – 'I forfeit'. Because, bound to her duty, she needs to go on… even if it kills her. She would rather fall to the hands of this monster… than the hands of the beast to come._

_That in itself scares her._

She rubbed her sweating face with her shaking hand, her light brown eyes blinking furiously, trying to shake the images out of her head. Her dreams were getting more and more realistic, and she feared them now more than ever. Was it her future? Was this what she had to go through to stop the bounded beast? Would she succeed at all?

Sliding out of her bed, she looked to the moon shining through her window, and wondered if what she planned to do was pointless. She had done so much already to prolong the event, but now as it dawned closer and closer, it seemed that her efforts were wasted. With everyday that passed, she could feel the pending Armageddon strengthen, and it worried her. Like the people she was bound to throw out of her way, she too wondered if her will was strong enough to change fate.

* * *

The tournament hopefuls poured in from around the globe. Jin watched on as they chatted excitedly amongst themselves, or simply stared in silence. These people had come to destroy him, whether they wanted to acknowledge it or not. Some 'claimed' that they didn't care, but he knew that deep down, behind the mask, they wanted to end the world war that was destroying both his or her loved ones, and his or her self. If he was in their shoes, like once was, he would have done the same.

His dark eyes roamed across the field from the shadows, inspecting faces new and old. He had changed the tournament set up immediately, throwing out the old regime in favour of a newer, 'fairer' way. Rather than quality in their country, and then be flown out to Japan… those who _really _wanted to come would fly themselves out and simply battle it out. No qualifications, no embarrassment, no waiting lists, no nothing. Of course, this method was much more intimidating than the previous one, for new challengers were to go up against veteran battlers and most probably lose… but the entertainment value was still there.

He wanted to show the world that he was not the enemy, though his entire disposition and manner screamed the opposite.

"Look at them all," he remarked, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk, "Throwing their lives away for a helpless cause…"

Beside him, Razer said nothing. She glanced at him from the corner of her green eyes, before straightening up a little. To challenge his word would have been seen as an immediate threat, which was something she did not want to pose to him for her own safety, let alone her friends' wellbeing. In times of desperation, a mere moment can feel like an eternity; and as helpless as she too felt, it did not mean she would stop fighting against her boyfriend to fix the wrongs he had done to the world, for whatever reason.

Silence soon swept through the masses. Beside him, Nina and Eddy stepped forth and onto the podium, arms stiffly by their sides in their work attires. Once they were on either side of his podium, he looked to the Greek and took her arm firmly, watching as discomfort flashed across her face. He tightened his grip on her momentarily, as she straightened out her white dress with her other hand, "Now remember my dear… _smile._"

She subconsciously winced, but did as he asked, as they too stepped out onto the waiting platform, to be gazed at by the people below. His black trench coat trailed behind him, as did her white dress. Once they were out on the podium, he released Razer's arm swiftly, and she stepped from his side, so he could address everyone on his own. Sunglasses perched upon his face, he looked at them all once again, spotting the Blood Talon and the others; before bowing his head slightly, feigning respect.

Thereafter, he raised his hands and casually placed them on the podium. As he did, he noticed a woman with black hair glare at him from the crowd. Her gaze was piercing, and it deterred him from speaking for a few moments, "Greetings fellow fighters. You truly are dedicated, using your own resources to come out to the King Of Iron Fist Tournament 6, to try fulfil whatever personal issue or vendetta you hold close to your heart.

"This Tournament, like its predecessors, is no game. People will be injured. Some may never walk again. Others… may _die…_" he grinned slightly, noticing Hwoarang unmistakably flinch in the crowd, "But the thrill generated by such battles is just as exciting. However, unlike previous Tournaments, the rules have been completely flipped. You are already aware of a major one, which is that _anyone _who is willing can participate. The top forty five fighters will be given roster numbers, which will be in alphabetical order. I myself shall be participating. Secondly, the Mishima hotel has been upgraded to house more of you. Do not abuse your privileges. Thirdly…"

"She looks so unhappy, doesn't she?"

Hwoarang snapped his head to the left, where a nearly shapeless female stood. As a matter of fact, she almost looked like a boy. Her face was the only feminine part of her – not even the chest area had real definition. He furrowed his eyebrows, watching as she raised her hand and ran it through her short, blonde hair. Cautiously, he spoke up, "Are you talking to me?"

"Yeah," she replied, turning to face him with a slight grin, "I'm talking to you. Everyone knows you're really close to her."

He said nothing and turned away, arms still folded across his chest. She indeed looked very unhappy. Behind the smile that he knew was fake, was an undoubtable frown. He knew she was opposed to what he was doing, but was questioning why she did nothing about it. However, with the discovery he made just over a week ago; he had a theory, but hoped it wasn't true. He wanted to ask, but chose not to, for whatever reason. He tapped his fingers against his arm.

The girl spoke again, adjusting her red and white jacket, "She has a choice to not be bound by his darkness. I'm wondering why she won't walk off. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn't think twice about knocking Jin out!"

_If you were in her shoes, _he thought, _You wouldn't live to knock out Kazama. He'd have you killed before you even had the _thought, _let alone the chance…_

"And Kazuya for that matter too, after what he did to my Mother and her co-workers… How come you're not with her?" she asked, "Everyone would've thought that –"

"Can you just shut up?" he growled irritably, uncrossing his arms.

She shrunk back, and then mumbled, "Sorry… God dammit Leo, learn when to shut your big mouth."

Pleased with the silence, he did not notice her slink away from his side into some other part of the crowd. He was too busy thinking on what he had seen, what could happen, and what he was going to do at the tournament. In the 3rd Tournament, he came with Razer to get more money for his friends and the hideout, as well as the personal quest to vanquish Jin and come out on top of their rivalry. In the 4th Tournament, he came to check upon his best friend, and if he could, return to his unfinished business with the Japanese youth. Such business wouldn't be settled until the 5th Tournament, which he joined to gather money for to start a new life with Razer, Seong-Hada, Baek and his other friends.

But in the 6th Tournament? He had no idea why he was here. He didn't want money this time. Why was he so tightly bounded to this tournament? Was he here for the fights? Was he here to stop Jin from going any further in his world conquest, like so many others? Was he here to gain control of the Zaibatsu for himself and right these wrongs? Was he here to ensure the safety of his friends?

A hand slid down his muscled arm, and lightly grabbed his limp hand, squeezing it gently. He turned his head to see Miharu standing by his side, smiling a little, before letting go. Although she was his ex, he still deeply cared about her, and knew that the feeling was mutual. He was there for her, and in turn, she was there for him too. She knew that he was suffering in silence, and wanted to sport some form of comfort, even by means of changing the topic, "What do you think of the new competitors?"

"Pushovers," he remarked, his trademark smirk on his face, "What about you?"

She shrugged lightly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, "I think some would do alright actually. Like… see that girl over there, standing near the front?"

"Lili?" he asked.

"No no, next to her. She's got black hair, a skirt on, and so on."

He squinted, seeing the woman next to the Monaco girl, and blinked, "Yeah? Shit, she's hot."

Rolling her eyes, the Japanese youth said, "Yeah, her. I think she would do really, really well. There's just this mysterious feel about her. A lot of people might underestimate her, and in turn have their asses kicked from here to Antarctica!"

He nodded a little, "Yeah, maybe."

They looked back to Jin, who was finishing his speech, "That is all for now. The battles shall commence in three days. They will be short, three fifteen minute rounds within the stadium. Make sure you _all _show up, as the competitors will be selected at random to fight against one another. Until then, train hard, dream on, and best of luck to you all. I will brief you further when you all arrive at Tokyo Park. If you wish to leave the Tournament, now is the time. Farewell."

With a final, stiff bow, he strolled off stage casually, his girlfriend following him, as well as his bodyguards.

* * *

Author's Note: Yes. I wanted to make Leo a girl in this fic. ;D


	5. Decadence

_**Chapter Five: Decadence **_

"You are entering the tournament," Jin stated monotonously, checking over the list in his hand one last time. Allowing the previous pages to drop on the clipboard, he placed it on the small, wooden bed side table, turning to face her thereafter, still propped up against a multitude of soft pillows, varying in shapes and sizes.

"Yes," Razer replied, looking at her hands. She fiddled with them.

"Why?"

"I want to."

"I did not give you permission to," he hissed, "It is too dangerous. You are to pull out."

"If I want to fight in the King Of Iron Fist Tournament Six… then _I will fight _in the King Of Iron Fist Tournament Six. I've been in three of them already Jin, I'm certainly not going to back down now, no matter what happens… even if… even if I don't really have a reason to be there. Even if I'm just there to… please the crowd."

"Stupid woman," he murmured, wrapping a hand around her upper arm, "You'll get yourself killed."

She pulled away hurriedly, "I am alive from past encounters, I can take care of myself."

Jin smirked slightly and rolled over, facing away from her, "I'm sure you can."

Silence.

Razer pressed, tugging the blankets a little closer to herself, "Why are you holding this Tournament anyway?"

He chuckled, closing his eyes, "To eliminate my competitors. If anyone dares to stand and challenge me… then I shall wipe them off the face of the Earth. I will eliminate Heihachi, and he then will not be able to take the Mishima Zaibatsu off of me. I will eliminate Kazuya and his wretched G-Corporation, and then _all _major oppositions would have been destroyed by my hand… The world will then be mine."

The world is already yours, Angel murmured silently, shaking her head. Razer agreed.

"Then _no one _can stop me. _No one. _I will be an unstoppable force… like _God," _with a heavy sigh, he threw off the heavy blankets and stood to his feet. Stretching his muscles, he heard his back crack, and a relieved expression crawled upon his face. Turning his head slightly, he spoke to his girlfriend, "I am going to go and get a drink. I will be back. Do not go anywhere."

Nodding, she watched as he left. She murmured to herself, shaking her head, "**What has happened to you…?**"

I'm sorry.

_Why?_

I'm sorry that it has come to this. The Jin you know is gone, I am sure you knew of this… It is Devil. It has been for the last few months. His speech, his mannerisms, his goals, his wants… are purely the demon's. Jin is not there anymore. I would not be surprised if he was dead within that shell. He has surrendered to the poison. He has given up, allowing total corruption.

_I had my suspicions, but I wish you had told me earlier regardless… I cannot feel Jin, can you?_

No.

She bit her lip, _Why did you not tell me?_

Because I never thought that this would happen, Angel responded dejectedly, Jin is so strong, Razer, and you know this… But… I never thought that his strength could be knocked out from underneath him… He has been crippled and destroyed. He is sick… infected with the darkness of the devil within.

_If he is infected, then surely there is a way to cure him._

Not that I know of at the moment, but I will keep an eye out for one.

The 22-year-old soon returned, rubbing his face tiredly. Feigning a smile, he lumbered over towards their bed and flicked off the light above the two of them, plunging the entire room into darkness. He climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over his form, warming himself further, before facing his girlfriend. His thick voice cut through the thin air, "I have a rough format for how the Tournament will occur. There are over one hundred and fifty competitors who were brave enough to sign up, _far _more than what has shown up at any of these Tournaments… There are too many, in my opinion. I am glad I decided to hold preliminaries to cull the number.

"In the preliminaries, there will be teams of two. The preliminaries will be like a tag tournament, so to say. It is a much more efficient way of cutting through the masses, and thus the best of the best will push through not only through skill, but through effective teamwork as well. I am not sure if the number of competitors are of an even number or an odd number. If it is even, then you and I will be teamed up. If it is odd, then I shall go alone. It is only fair, after all. I won the previous three Tournaments, I _will _be able to fend for myself. And if that is the case, then you are free to be with whoever you like. I advise against Hwoarang, however."

"Well," she remarked, "I'm picking him anyway. Why are you advising against it?"

Jin smirked, "I just do."

"You haven't fucking planned something against him, have you?"

"Of course not," he said truthfully, but the way he said it made Razer think that he was lying, "I just do not feel that he will… _protect _you, enough, and I cannot have that. No no, I certainly cannot have that at all. It would pain me greatly if something were to happen to you. It would wound me like the thousands upon thousands of bullets that burst through my form three long, perilous years ago."

"You can trust him," she said, "He'll look after me, just like he did for the last _nine years._"

"You are everything to me, my dear…" he cooed slyly, making the woman's heart stop due to the sinister sound of his voice. He reached out to her and affectionately stroked her cheek, his fingers trailing down the soft skin with forced childlike tenderness, "_Everything. _Behind this King is a Queen of equal worth… and for you, my liege, I give you _the world_."

He came closer, lightly brushing his lips against her forehead, inwardly chuckling at the violent shudder from her, before backing off and settling comfortably into his side of the bed. Closing his eyes, he turned away from Athane once again, leaving the fighter to see a muscled, scarred back. He still sported the wounds of Devil's wings, and for a moment she was glad that she could not see them, and even more thankful that hers had healed up when her corrupt angel was purified in the previous tournament, with thanks to Raven and his team.

She settled into bed too and turned away from him, staring at the long mirror in the corner of the room. The mirror reflected the bed and its occupants, and she gazed at it sadly, feeling empty inside, and alone despite the man beside her. She spoke, "If it were up to you, and you could not be with me in this… tag tournament, then who would you assign to guard me through the perilous preliminaries?"

He smirked, "Lars Alexandersson."

* * *

His eyes scanned down the competition list one last time, following the numbers as they blurred by. He had already encountered himself, Razer, some other previous Tournament hopefuls, _Kazuya _(just remembering seeing that name there made him bubble with anger), and some people from his own MFE, including Nina, Eddy, a Jack-6 robot (per his request), Alisa Boskonovitch (the new 'weapon') and Lars Alexandersson, the prize of his entire Tekken Force. He smirked slightly, pleased that within the Tournament, he had backup.

_**159. **__Zhang Chou, _China, F. 21, Wing Chun.  
_**160. **__Akira Almasy, _Canada, M. 25, Okichitaw.  
_**161. **__Lei Wulong, _Hong Kong, M. 48, Zui Quan/Five Form Kung Fu.  
_**162. **__Benni Julius, _Italy, M. 27, Roman Gladius Techniques/Kali.  
_**163. **__Liz Julius, _Italy, F. 24, Roman Gladius Techniques/Kali.  
_**164. **__Takeshi Sakari, _Japan, M. 19, Tai Chi/Take Kwon Do/Samurai Hand-to-Hand Techniques.  
_**165. **__Fritz Coster, _England, M. 37, Hand Assassination Techniques.

He blinked repeatedly at the entrants for numbers 161 through to 165, a low hum escaping him as he did so, More Tekken Force members, _more _from Hawk Squad Eleven… Interesting… There are more Tekken Force members here than I originally thought… But I wonder why my bumbling fools have entered the Tournament? They won't make it far. No no, they won't make it very far at all…

_**166. **__Ananiah Ziva, _Israel, F. 25, Krav Maga.  
_**167.**__ Scott Davis_, New Zealand, M. 31, Hapkido.  
_**168. **__Kaiya Sato, _Japan, F. 21, Taido.  
_**169. **__Morris Wellington, _England, M. 20-ish, street fighting I guess…

Jin quirked his eyebrow after managing to decipher the writing, amused but annoyed. It was scribbly and all over the place, intercepting the previous entry's writing, as well as the one below it, and there also appeared to be a hint of an alcohol stain in the middle of the word 'England'. His unsureness in both his fighting style and his _age, _his own _age, _made him scowl with frustration. He shook his head and mentally reminded himself to have a secretary type out and print out the list of entries next time. It made life so much easier.

_**170. **__Scar_, South Korea, M_. _28, street fighting.  
_**171. **__Faith Wickham, _America, F_. _23, American Kempo/Tae Kwon Do.  
_**172. **__Magmi Rybak, _Iceland, M_. _40, Gilma.  
_**173. **__Hita Sisodia, _India, F_. _26, Vajra Mushti.  
_**174. **__Seong-Hada Park, _South Korea, M. 20, street fighting/Tae Kwon Do.

So the fool entered after all… Devil Jin murmured, smirking. The youth wanted to enter, but was unsure about it, or so Razer had said. It appeared he had finally made up his mind, but he wondered if all of Baek's training had paid off. Was he really a match for the amateurs in this Tournament, or was the kid deluding himself with visions of glory?

_**175. **__Heihachi Mishima, _Japan, M_. _76, Mishima Ryu Karate.

He almost crunched up the entire list upon reading the final entrant. Hissing, he took a deep breath and inhaled, focusing upon any trace of his Grandfather in the puddle of people standing in the middle of Tokyo Park, awaiting further instructions. His nose crinkled when he found that scent, and it unnerved and angered him, So he is coming back for what is his… He will not get it.

One-hundred and seventy five participants… An odd number. He would have to battle on his own. An easy task.

"**Mr Kazama, you're on in about a minute,**" a nearby Japanese man said, bowing stiffly thereafter.

He nodded a little and turned away, placing the list in the hands of the secretary on his left, before making his way to the side of the stage, where he would wait. Down the front of the crowd, he could already see his personal guards standing there, as stiff as a rake. Eddy maintained a blank facial expression (with difficulty), as he surveyed the area, and Nina seemed to pierce the participants before her with her cold gaze. Lars was right at the back in his casual clothes, standing near Razer, as he instructed him to. He squinted a little, seeing that their mouths were moving. They were talking to each other.

Lars stopped speaking for a moment, looking at the stage. From his current position with his boss' girlfriend, he could see him standing there, watching the pair of them, waiting to go on stage and speak. He smiled a little, and was met with a harsh glare, before said glare was turned to what he could see of the crowd. Saying nothing, he looked back to Razer and spoke, "It seems like he is in a bad mood today."

"He's always in a bad mood," she countered with a dejected huff, rubbing her wrist.

"Mm, I suppose you're right. You're aware of the tag aspect of the preliminaries, right?"

"Yes. I'm going with Hwoarang. I mean, think about it, it's the most logical. We know each other's moves back to front, and we've already worked together before. We'll be fine."

"Alright, just be careful. You already know of Jin's protectiveness over you, and you already know that he loathes your Korean friend. I doubt he'd approve, so just be careful. I am already aware of the verbal abuse, but we don't need to add physical abuse to this conundrum."

She looked up at him and smiled a little, both at his sentence and the irony of it; and in return got a small grin back. Since she met him, Lars had been a real help to her, lending an ear whenever he was assigned to her, and so on and so forth. He was a trustworthy man with a heart of gold, and all of Jin's employers knew this. Lars worked close with Jin, visiting the Mishima Manor often, but also worked on the front lines around the world, gaining both the respect and the trust of his employer and of his subordinates. Despite being employed for the world's tyrant, deep down, he was against everything that was going on, and he wanted to put a stop to it. He didn't know how yet, but he'd find a way. He promised himself that, and Razer supported his goal.

Several times in the past year, the Swedish man had interfered in harsh verbal exchanges between the couple. He had seen them fall apart. They were once so strong and so loving, but now, they were barely holding themselves up, let alone the image that they were forced to portray to the public. He had heard many words, be they in English, Japanese or Greek, and each word he heard had been delivered in a slanderous nature. It chilled him to the bone to just think about it, for he could still hear the venom dripping from their voices.

He recalled an incident occurring only two months ago. Screaming had been prominent in the lounge room, where a disgruntled Jin and an infuriated Razer exchanged verbal blows. Maids and chefs had fled away from the scene, too petrified to approach either of them, fearing either being fired or being murdered. The two fighters did not realise his presence, for he had been called in by his employer to discuss the next plan of action. He remembered Jin raising a hand to her, and he moved to slap her across the face – but he stopped his actions when he saw his officer standing in the hallway with his household staff standing far behind him.

He wouldn't forget the look of complete fear in the woman's eyes, and the thankfulness that thereafter manifested when she saw him.

With a small huff, he tugged at the cuff of sleeve of his white shirt, thereafter folding his arms across his chest, and monitored the crowd once more. They were all of in their own little cliques. New friendships were being forged, and old friends were reunited, joy strewn across their faces. He saw the old competitors shaking one another's hands, asking how they had been in the past year, and so on and so forth. He saw Marshall Law, Paul Phoenix and Steve Fox nearby, chatting animatedly, though the latter of the three seemed quite out of it, a frown upon his face. He too was looking around, bored; but a small flash of happiness flickered across his face when his eyes landed upon a tall, beautiful and… well-endowed Brazilian woman appeared in his vision.

Alexandersson followed Steve's path with his eyes, watching as he was reunited with Christie Monteiro. It had become apparent that the two got together sometime near the end of the 5th Tournament, or thereafter, and many were surprised at this fact, but accepted it wholeheartedly regardless. After their long embrace and kiss, they began to talk, soon enough attracting more people to the two of them – their friends from the previous tournaments, including Ling Xiaoyu and Miharu Hirano, two people he had seen a multitude of times at the Mishima Manor, however their visits declined in number the eviller Jin became.

It didn't deter one visitor, though; and so far, Lars couldn't see that redhead anywhere.

"Lars," Razer whispered, tugging his black sleeve, pointing forward.

His head snapped back to the stage, where Jin strolled on. He stood a little taller, paying attention to the words that fell from his employer's mouth, and maintained total silence, just like the rest of the crowd. Jin's voice carried to every part of Tokyo Park and to every person's ears.

Elsewhere in the crowd, Hwoarang weaved his way through the people, keeping a sharp eye out for any of his friends. He was listening to everything Jin had said, and so far it was just the standard welcome. He passed that Leo woman once again, and hurriedly took a sharp turn to the left, not wanting to interact with her again. As he weaved his way to the back, passing a girl with pink hair (_pink_ hair? _Seriously?_), an aged Ganryu, and countless other faces that he could both name and not name.

"The preliminaries… will be in the fashion of a _tag _tournament."

He stopped moving for a moment, due to spotting Razer with a tall man he had seen occasionally at the Mishima Manor, and the sentence that just escaped the Japanese youth's mouth. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked to him, shocked at the new revelation. Jin did not announce this in the previous meeting. Obviously, he had thought it up last minute, and refused to allow the tournament to continue without this valuable and clever proposal.

"That is so to say, you are to find one partner, and the two of you are to battle against another two competitors," he paused for a moment, watching them look at one another, before speaking again, "There is an odd amount of competitors this year – one hundred and seventy five. Therefore, one person will be left over… and that person will be me. It is only fair that the winner of the previous tournament is… _challenged. _

"As I mentioned in our last meeting, the fights would begin today, and they will. They will carry on for a week or so, and during that time period, there will be eighty seven contestants remaining. Next week will be the final preliminaries, and the numbers will drop down to forty three. These forty three people will go into the tournament, and from there, the tag aspect will be removed entirely, and you will all be fighting individually in the Mishima Stadium. You have ten minutes to find a partner."

Chaos spread immediately as people began looking around for a partner. Some were lucky, for they had come with a friend (such as Marshall and Paul, and King and Marduk), so they did not have to scour through to find a partner. Hwoarang already knew who he would be paired up with, and he began to make his way over to the Greek once again, ignoring a nearby girl who asked if she could be his partner. His silence was immediately taken for the 'no' he wanted, and she scampered off elsewhere.

It appeared she had been looking for him too, because when her eyes landed on him, a smile arrived. She moved towards him, closing their gap, followed by the man. He raised a hand for a high five, stopping a few feet away, and was met with the expected gesture, "You and me, eh? Awesome. We'll be like, an ass-kicking machine, what with our awesome Tae Kwon Do skills and shit."

She nodded a little, smiling, "Yeah."

Lars cut in, "He's watching you."

"I figured," Razer remarked, scratching her arm. She turned to him, "Who are you going to be with?"

"Mm, whoever is left over I suppose. I'm not bothered."

"Sorry," Hwoarang interjected, "I've seen you heaps of times, but I don't know your name."

"Lars Alexandersson," he replied, "Head of the Tekken Force."

"Ah. Nice to meet you."

He bowed his head slightly, "Likewise, Hwoarang."

The Blood Talon slipped his hands into his pockets and leant back, casually looking around, resuming his conversation with Razer, "So so so so… seen the others yet? Because I sure haven't, I got here late. Baek and Seong-Hada left without me because I was asleep. I'm thankful that they gave me that little extra time, but a bit shitty that I had to run all the way here."

"You have a motorbike. Why did you not use it?"

"Flat tire and no fuel."

"Poor you."

"Yeah, poor me."

They chatted for a while, pitching a joke at one another occasionally. Meanwhile, Lars watched as a slender woman with black hair approached him. Eventually, she caught the attention of the other two participants, and it was when she had all of their attention, she spoke to Lars directly, a small, sly smirk on her face, "You and I are the last ones without a partner. So therefore it is fitting that you and I should be partners."

He nodded, "Your name is?"

She turned and stood by the man's side, "Zafina."

Jin surveyed the area and subconsciously scowled when he noticed who his girlfriend had chosen to be paired up with. Stuffing that emotion down into his stomach, he spoke into the microphone once again, his voice silencing the bickering people, "Your ten minutes is up. As you can see behind the main area, there are multiple areas for you to fight against another team. There are referees at each. Line up and fight. Both participants must be rendered unconscious or dead for that team to 'lose'. If you lose, go home. If you win, then go home and train for the next round. Good luck to all."

They followed his instructions, pooling towards the areas and listening to the instructions of the referees. They were all ordered around, evening out the numbers and so on and so forth. The organisation was done surprisingly quick, and soon enough, both Razer and Hwoarang found themselves in one of the rings, facing off against a drunken man and another silent one.

The referee looked amongst them all and spoke quickly, "Choose one of your representatives to start out."

Razer, "You?"

Hwoarang, "No, you."

"No, you."

"No, you!"

"_Fine._ But next time, you are up first."

"Fine with me. Good luck, okay?" With a brief pat on the shoulder, he jumped off the area and waited beside the referee, along with the silent man.

Razer looked straight ahead of her, watching her opponent swagger forth. Taking a quick swig of his beer, he spoke, pointing at her. In between two of his fingers was a bent cigarette, and flowing from his back was a makeshift cape – or rather, a pattern-less, blue curtain, "So you're my opponent huh? The famous girlfriend of the world's tyrant… Think Jinny-poo will miss you if I kill ya?"

She contained the urge to retch in disgust as the man tucked what was left of the whiskey flask into his trousers, and replied honestly, "I doubt he would."

"Alright, I guess I'll let you live then," he slid into stance after inhaling the cigarette once more, crinkling his small, scarred nose thereafter.

"…And I assume you picked that cigarette up and off the floor," she taunted lightly, also sliding into stance.

"Nonsense! …It was in a bin."

The referee interjected, his voice loud and firm, "Razer Athane and Hwoarang v.s. Morris Wellington and Bill Williamson. Three, two, one, FIGHT!"

* * *

Author's Note: Aaaand there's been (a lot) of name drops here! The authors would know who they are ;D

But because I feel like it etc, I'm gonna tell you all who belongs to who and from where, and insist, _INSIST _that you check out their stories. Not only that, but I further insist that you guys check _each other's_ stories out XD You won't be disappointed :3 Some will appear once again in later chapters, and I'll make mention of who it is and who the character/s belong to when they reappear.

**Benni Julius, Liz Julius, Takeshi Sakari, Fritz Coster **and **Bill Williamson **all belong to the lovely _**spongecake 2 **_and appear in his story _"Stockholm Syndrome" _and its sequel _"A Volley Of Bullets" _(if its still up! It's going to get reworked :3). They are Tekken Force officers from Hawk Squad Eleven, and, many lulz ensue. Great piece of fan fiction, wonderful writing and adventures, and god dammit go look. **Morris Wellington,** though, who also belongs to _**spongecake 2 **_and appears in his story _"Exodus Of The Mind And Soul" _(as well as cameo-ing in his other fics) is most definitely the king of lulz :3

**Kaiya Sato **belongs to _**souslalune **_and appears in her story _"Blind Justice". _Lovely, lovely piece of writing there, easily the best Jin/OC fanfic I've seen around (stop blushing, sous). I really envy the way she writes because its just so effortless and masterful and… :3 Kaiyaaa. It needs more love, though D: So much more love. So, go give Kaiya and sous a bit of love and check out her fics. I again echo, you _won't _be disappointed :3

And last, but not least, **Scar** and **Faith Wickham **belong to _**AmberAnodyne, **_and appear in her story _"Reckless Hearts". _In fact, y'all have seen these two before way back when in "With Me" (when Seong-Hada decided to 'inspect the milkshake for poison by sipping it' during the bowling scene ;D). The author needs a royal kick up her backside to get writing again (because she is working on that sequel, remember?), so, do pop over and give her a good spanking in the form of a "HURRY UP AND POST THE SEQUEL" review :3

And that's that. Sorry for the giant author's note but I'm sure you would've wanted to read all of this at the end rather than the beginning D: I promise the author's notes won't be so big next time. XD

Also, more lols, I wrote this chapter like early last year, and then what a few weeks ago, Tekken Tag 2 is announced. Fourth time something's happened like this between me and Namco LOL.


	6. Rise

Author's Note: This one's for Spongey ;D! I hope I did your characters justice D:

* * *

_**Chapter Six: Rise **_

Razer rushed at him, a tightly clenched fist aimed squarely for his skeletal body. Morris staggered lazily out of the way, now on the right of her arm. He still staggered, drunk and weakened, as if he couldn't hold up his own weight. He threw out one bony finger and spoke simply, his British accent cutting through the current tension, "You're making a mistake here."

Ignoring the statement, she span on her heels and threw out a left kick, watching as Morris simply weaved out of the way of it once again. Emitting a sigh of annoyance, she charged again, this time with a quick, short, Nose Bleeder kick – but she suddenly felt pain at her stomach. Looking down, she saw that the scrawny thing had suspended her on one, large boot. He spun around once, hurling her into the ground, and the Greek groaned in pain, standing to her feet again, feeling slightly nauseous.

She moved to grab him this time, however he gracefully moved away, leaning back and rolling onto his hands, before landing on his feet once more. She took this opportunity to strike, and without hesitance, she slammed her heel into the man's spine, watching as he was thrown into the ground. She kicked him back up slightly with a small, right kick, jabbed him once in the face, and then did a Spinning Axe Kick, putting him back down into the concrete.

Morris was suddenly standing on his hands again, and whilst in this position, he threw out a fierce right kick, watching with a slight, smug grin as it whipped across the girl's face, causing her to stumble back dizzily, and place a hand over the struck area. Easing himself back onto his hands, he reached into his trousers and pulled out the whiskey flask again, raising a little, speaking before drinking it, "Drink break."

The contents slid down his throat hurriedly, however before he knew, the flask was completely thrown out of his hands with a well placed kick. He felt something cut at the hand that was holding it, like a spur; and with anger and frustration, he watched as the flask fell out of the arena, out of his hands. He looked back to the perpetrator, finding that it was Razer's tag partner who had struck him.

"This is a fight," Hwoarang remarked, "Not a show."

Morris threw out his fist, hoping to have the back of it smash into Hwoarang's side. He watched as he skittered back, defending said side even though the blow missed entirely. He had been watching the previous tournaments in the bus shelters, and noticed that in the King Of Iron Fist Tournament Five, the Korean's ribs had been severely injured. He recalled thinking to himself that if he ever faced him in this tournament, at whatever stage, he would go for that area, because 'it just bloody well makes sense, doesn't it Spike?', "You're certainly _making _it like a show, with wandering off like that because you're scared of a little _punch._"

In response, he threw a fierce uppercut at the Brit's jaw, watching as the force of the strike sent him airborne. He jabbed him again quickly, hopped into Right Flamingo Stance, turned and jabbed again, struck the body sideways with his left foot, then finished with Hunting Hawk, the final kick slamming his opponent into the ground. He sidestepped a coming low kick and leapt into the air once again, both of his legs clipping his opponent back into the ground, thereafter landing squarely on his feet.

"Not today," Morris said to himself, rising up again, dodging Machine Gun Kicks. He grabbed Hwoarang, curling the arm around the neck of his foe, and threw himself on the floor, flipping him over and onto his back. Both stood unsteadily to their feet again, and Morris brought two jabs from the same fist into his jaw, then smashed his foot into his left shin. He went to deliver a kick to his stomach, like he had done to Razer beforehand, but it was anticipated and thrown to the side with ease.

The Blood Talon seized the opportunity to throw him. He grabbed his right arm and used it as leverage to perform the Falcon Dice Kick throw. He thereafter switched into right stance and awaited Morris' next move, watching as the man stood to his feet, swinging his free arm side to side, and taking a quick drag of his cigarette – and for a moment, Hwoarang actually wanted to steal the cigarette for himself. He had quit since the last tournament, but the temptation was still there infrequently.

Both their heads snapped to a neighbouring ring, hearing their referee shout, "Jin Kazama wins!"

Morris scowled. He looked back to Hwoarang and dropped his cigarette on the ground, sloppily stamping it out thereafter, "Right, time to finish you off and go after the big bad guy. Get ready to surrender, Corporal Daft Hair."

He quirked and eyebrow and inquired, "Corporal Daft Hair…?"

His answer was a fleeting punch to his ribs. He jumped back, still wary about being struck there at all, and watched as Morris joined his hands together to create one, large fist, and swung, aiming to smash him at the top of the head. He dodged again, watching as he almost fell over from the sheer force of the swing; and in response, he kneed him in the chest, causing him to involuntarily cough, and thereafter kicked him in the side of the head, rendering him unconscious and half sliding out of the arena.

Bill, Morris' partner, dragged the unconscious form of his acquaintance off of the arena, not caring if he landed on the grassy ground in a heap, and on his head for the first few seconds. Stretching, he lumbered into the arena in his place, watching irritably as his opponent bounced back and forth on his feet. Adjusting his dark green helmet, he looked around for his friends real quickly, seeing that some of them were next in line to qualify; and gave them a small thumbs up.

Fritz, one of his friends, shouted, "Go get him, Bill!"

Tekken Force, Angel murmured to her host, I remember Bill. His uniform used to be a black tuxedo with black shoes, for some reason… I guess the dress code was finally enforced.

_Mm._

Even _Tekken Force _soldiers, aside from Nina, Eddy and Lars, have entered to get rid of him.

_Or to help him, _Razer replied, refocusing her gaze on the battle.

Hwoarang lashed out with an attack called Back Lash, which was usually hard hitting. However, he was stunned to see that Bill had not only blocked the attack, which had been done before, but hadn't been moved back by the force of the strike. He quirked an eyebrow, still in the same, ending position of the attack, and watched as Bill muttered nervously, "Err…"

He rotated back into his former position and struck Bill with the spur at the heel of his shoe, making sure to hit him in the helmet. He succeeded, watching as the glass shards shattered, some going into his opponent's eye, others falling to the ground, glittering and glinting in the sun. The Canadian shrunk back, rubbing at his eyes furiously, before furrowing his eyebrows. He ran at him and leapt into the air, hoping to crush him beneath his massive bulk. Unfortunately, the Korean had swiftly spun out of the way, causing Bill to land on his face.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Hwoarang asked irritably, now out of stance, "It was bad enough that the previous guy was fucking _drunk, _but _fuck me, _this is just _bad! _What the hell does Kazama employ you for?"

_WHAM._

He stumbled back, clutching his shoulder. Bill smirked, "Kazama employ Bill… for _that._"

"Note to self, don't piss off the big dude. Okay. Let's try this again," back in stance though holding the shoulder up unknowingly, he ducked underneath coming punches, clipping Bill's knee with a low, left kick. Rising from such a position, he conducted Tsunami Kick, looking as the man buckled forward. However, it was not in submission or in pain, but rather in illusion, as a hard fist struck him in the jaw, and then two hands were placed squarely on his chest, propelling him backwards. When he fell on his back, Bill dropped onto him, smashing and bashing his opponent.

_God dammit, _the 22-year-old hissed, trying his best to defend himself, and consequently failing.

He grabbed a coming strike and forcefully threw the arm the other way, causing some of Bill's body to follow the movement. He raised a leg, now that the man was off balance, and threw him off entirely, still temporarily blinded by unsummoned tears of pain. He could feel a headache coming on, and dizzily, he lumbered over towards the side with an outstretched hand, looking for his tag partner.

He felt her tap his hand, lightly squeezing it thereafter, and felt the wind rush by as she jumped up and moved towards their opponent. Now on the ground and out of the arena, he hurried to the standing by medic, and applied ice to his jaw, which as throbbing like mad. Thereafter, he refocussed his attention on the battle, sienna eyes alight with amusement as Razer threw a fierce punch across Bill's face.

The man fell back like a sack of potatoes. She grabbed the front of his shirt and, using her other hand, punched him across the face once again, and was consequently met with a fist to the thigh. She put him down and lingered back, the pained leg facing away from Bill, most of her weight on the good, left leg. He charged at her, and she avoided the coming man by dodging to the left, before conducting Laser Cannon, the third and final punch smashing into his kidney.

She unknowingly paled due to the manner and the area of the strike, though Angel understood why.

Bill stood again, violently shuddering in shock due to the strike. It did not deter him, though, and he charged once again, like a bull. This time, he did manage to hit her in the charge, his helmet knocking her head and pushing her back. The Greek complied with the situation, falling flat onto her back, and as he tumbled forward, she tripped him over with Christie's Ipanema Wings move. No longer balanced, she grabbed the front of his helmet, hooking her fingers around the open space, ignoring whatever glass was left, and threw him behind her, face first.

Learn to be more careful, Angel hissed, You've cut yourself on the glass.

Not interested in picking out the remaining shards, she conducted Sky Rocket, watching as Bill soared sky high. Taking several steps back, she also watched as he plummeted back into the ground, flat on his back. He moaned in pain, trying to sit up, but not finding the strength to – and he wondered for a brief, intelligent moment, if he was paralysed. It seemed that his opponent had the same idea, and approached him, nudging his arm with her foot, "Can you move?"

The world suddenly took a fast tilt, and there was a stinging sensation going from her head and all the way down her back. Bill had grabbed Razer's ankles and pulled, causing her to end up flat on her back. He answered, "Bill moved." He readied a stomp, aiming for her throat –

- but missed, because she rolled out of the way. Rising from the ground, she dodged and hit him in the neck with the edge of her foot, pulling him down with it. The jolting impact of yet another fall had Bill whine out loud, but it evolved into a scream when Dynamite Heel collided with his lower back. His entire body shuddered due to the pain, and he put a hand up to show his surrender. There was no way he could continue, so the smart thing to do would be to surrender.

The medics hopped onto the field to assist Bill, who was muttering something about a bent spoon. The referee blew his whistle and thereafter pointed at the victor, "Morris Wellington and Bill Williamson are eliminated! Razer Athane and Hwoarang rise through the ranks and will be participating in the next round!"

The Greek hopped off the stage and looked to Hwoarang, "How's your jaw?"

"Can't feel it. How's your back?"

"It is a nice, resounding 'meh'."

They began to leave, however she stopped walking. He stopped too and looked at her, "What?"

"I…" she hesitated and sighed, turning to her left, "Jin has beckoned me to his side. I must go."

"Okay… Take care of yourself. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"I cannot make any promises."

He did not say anything and merely watched her weave through the other participants to go and stand by Jin.


	7. Forget It

Author's Note: Postin' this earlier than I expected for four reasons. One, it's because Amber excited me into posting it somehow. Two, it's because I miss Sanah and DAMMIT DON'T BE STRESSING OUT IN UNI, GIRL! Three, it's to make sous not feel so sadfais about not being able to write right now (and hopefully may inspire her in the process? –shifty eyes-). Lastly, it's to terrify myself to get _my own _ass into gear.

I also hope I did your characters justice again, Spongey. Oh oh oh, and yours too, Amber. :3 I loves them like they are my own XD Enjoy!

* * *

_**Chapter Seven: Forget It **_

"I still can't believe we won!" Seong-Hada remarked, clapping his hands together, "Me and Baek, the other dynamic kicking duos!" High-fiving the old timer, who was chuckling beside him, he looked back to the electronic boards in the old hotel lobby, waiting for Jin to arrive and announce the new, final tag match ups. All of his friends had made it through, and he was seeing other new faces, each unique in their own way.

He looked across to see an Asiatic man with black hair, which was sticking up in some places but falling back in others. A scar was dripping from the corner of his left eye, all the way down his cheek, and it really set him apart from the others. He looked familiar to him, as did the woman standing next to him, her dark brown hair tied back. It wasn't until the woman pointed him out did he see their faces wholly and recognise them – it was the man and the woman whose milkshakes he had 'sipped from' a year ago at the bowling alley.

He awkwardly waved, before watching as they turned their attention elsewhere. Baek grabbed the youth's head and turned it forward, so that he was watching Jin and Razer descend the stairs that they had become accustomed to in the past. Jin was, as always, in his trench coat, and Razer was in a large, warm brown jacket that he had seen before. Her arms were around one of his, and in his other hand was a remote control, which he raised to point at the board, pressing the large button to activate it.

The names popped up on the screen, accompanied by a small picture of each of the competitors, what day, and the ring number that they would be competing in. He hurriedly searched for his and Baek's, seeing that their opponents would be Liz and Benni Julius. Looking around for the faces that were displayed on the board, he found them on the opposite end of the room, holding helmets by their sides. They were Tekken Force soldiers, he realised, and he swallowed. They were far more trained than he was. _Far _more trained.

Looking back to the screen, he easily found Razer and Hwoarang, and noticed that they were against a man named Scar and a woman named Faith. His eyes widened when he saw their pictures, and he looked back to the scar-faced man and his accomplice to his left. They were his best friends' opponents, right over there. Surprised, he shrugged and looked back to the screen, seeing that Xiaoyu and Miharu were up against an Indian woman and a white man.

Once done observing the screen for his other friends, SH turned to Baek, "**Where's Hwoarang?**"

Soon enough, he came through the double doors.

"…**Late **_**again?**_" the 20-year-old hissed angrily, "**Stop sleeping in!**"

"**I had a late shift, fuck off,**" he walked past him and observed the board hurriedly, before looking for his opponents, "**Scar and Faith huh?**"

"**Over there,**" Baek remarked, flicking his head towards the two, who were exiting the area. He watched as Hwoarang wholly turned around, his eyes following the behind of the woman, and before long, he smacked his student upside the head, smirking at the 'gah!'. He began chastising him in a fatherly manner, "**Stop staring, it's rude.**"

He rolled his eyes, thereafter observing the date of his battle again. Realising that it was today at sundown, he sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly, "**I'm gonna go and sleep some more on a random park bench or something.** **I'll see you guys later, alright?**"

"**You know,**" Seong-Hada began, "**You could, like, watch our match, which is on in ten minutes?**"

He grinned, "**Alright.**"

* * *

"I still do not understand why we have to attend this bumbling fool and disgruntled old man's match," Jin hissed.

She tug her nails into his arm angrily, "Because, they are my family, and family support each other. Not that _you_ would know anything about _family, _am I right?"

The Japanese man furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed one of the hands that was around his arm, squeezing it all too tightly, causing her to wince. Putting his hand back into his pocket, he looked at the woman from the corner of his eyes, a small smirk setting in on his dark visage, "You know better than to question me, woman. Do not let it happen again."

The murmuring exchange was vaguely heard by Hwoarang, who stood on Razer's left. He clenched his fists, which were hidden underneath the woman's brown jacket (which he offered to hold), not liking Jin's final statement to her. From the corner of his eye, he looked to her, watching as she turned to look at him wholly, almost forlornly. Covering his mouth to yawn, he watched as his two friends stood on the podium, standing opposite Liz and Benni.

Liz was up first, her short, murky blond hair framing the hard, determined yet lively look on her face. She was in a Tekken Force uniform, but without the helmet for whatever reason. Seong-Hada assumed it was because it was heavy and slowed her down during battle, but he deemed it unnecessary and unimportant to dwell upon. She turned back to Benni, her brother. He also noted that the other fighter was like the male version of her but with a scarred face and obvious signs of fatigue and sleepiness.

The referee stood between them and put his arm out, his face hard, "Ready?"

Liz turned back and slid into stance, watching as the nervous Korean did the same.

"Baek Doo San and Seong-Hada Park v.s. Liz and Benni Julius. Three, two, one, _fight!_"

She launched a solid punch, which was hurriedly and sloppily blocked. SH dodged underneath trio of kicks, launching a few low ones of his own, before propelling her high into the air. He edged forward, jabbing her a few times as she was falling back down, before slamming both of his fists into her stomach, spinning a right leg into the same area thereafter. He breathed out, trying to calm down.

He was swept off his feet, feeling both of her legs slam into the side of his knees. Hurriedly rising from his fallen position and jumping over another set of sweeping kicks, he felt an elbow smash straight into the direct centre of his chest. The impact stung, but it didn't wind him like a blow to the stomach would have. Skittering back and rubbing the sore spot, he put on a determined face and sidestepped another elbow strike, using his right foot to trip up the woman, who was trying to stand straight up again.

With his right foot forward, he raised his left leg, the top of his shoe colliding with the woman's chin, before hitting her another two times, once with the right leg and once again with the left. Now in left stance, he waited for Liz to come at him again. Unlike the rest of his 'family', who would've rushed forward to continue striking, Seong-Hada was much more of a tactician and was very patient.

She did run over, managing to tackle him to the ground in the process. After a few punches to his face, Liz moved over and began to quickly lock his left arm into a painful position, hoping to dislocate or even break it. The youth would have none of that, though, and managed to find strength in the lower half of his body. He dug his feet into her back and shoved her off, leaving him with a slight stinging sensation in his arm, but he regained the freedom to move around once again.

Without warning, she turned around again and charged. Seong-Hada stabilised himself, not allowing himself to be tackled to the ground again. She ran into him, and before she could make contact, he'd grabbed both of her shoulders and shoved her way back. She charged at him again, this time hoping to dig both of her fists into his face. He grabbed both of them as they came, stopping them from hitting him – and then, disbelieving to him, she spat on him.

Annoyed by this, he threw her to the side and quickly wiped it from his face, "What the hell was that?"

"It was the rain," she deadpanned, not taking notice of the clear blue sky.

"Don't spit in my face and call it rain!" the Korean yelled, now quickly moving towards Liz.

A low kick from his left leg caused her to buckle forward and limp. He noticed this and noted it for later, raising his right leg and aiming it squarely for her stomach. The attack was blocked, but he then moved the same leg down and struck the sore spot again, before striking again with the same leg, but lower on her body. A quick feinting jab to the face left an opening, which he utilised, slamming his left leg squarely into her stomach.

He watched as she buckled forward, her mind spinning incessantly. He grimaced at her facial expression, which was a cross between ill and dizzy, and heard her younger brother shout at her to get her head back in the game, and that she was '_Tekken Force, _for crying out loud!'. The latter seemingly worked, for she was on her feet again – but the weak punch she threw at her opponent showed that the strike had really rattled her.

She even fell forward after it. SH caught her before she face-planted, and watched as her left arm raised in surrender. He helped her out of the ring and looked to Baek sadly, before saying, "**You go and fight her brother. Let me help her to the infirmary or something… Just… Fight for me.**"

Baek stepped into the ring, facing Benni Julius. The sheer look of anger on his face disturbed him.

* * *

"It was a close one, but I pulled through," Baek remarked, holding an ice pack on his shoulder. He shooed away both of his students, who were concerned for his well-being, "Get up there on that damn stage already and leave an old man to watch. I'm fine, I'm fine."

Razer and Hwoarang's scheduled match was immediately after Baek and Seong-Hada's, and ironically in the same ring. Leaving his master in the care of his best friend, the 22-year-old jumped up and stepped onto the arena, facing off against the very attractive woman opposite him, who was pulling down on her black gloves. She tossed back her dark brown hair and looked at him with piercing, aqua eyes, noticing her opponent bite his lip a little in what appeared to be either amusement or silent admiration.

They both bowed slightly, keeping their eyes locked on one another.

"Razer Athane and Hwoarang v.s. Faith Wickham and Scar. Three, two, one, fight!"

To Hwoarang's surprise, the woman did not rush forward nor attack. She was analysing him, looking for any obvious weaknesses. He furrowed his eyebrows, slightly confused, but did the same for a few moments. Hearing the crowd shift restlessly behind him, he gave up that idea pretty quickly and moved in first, sending a practice kick to her head. She dodged it easily.

Becoming more aggressive, he increased the force and speed of his kicks. One after the other, highs, mids and lows – the woman had blocked the short burst of attacks with her forearms. It took him by surprise when he had to block, because somewhere during that string, she had unleashed an attack of her own. The combination of strength, speed and skill with which she struck made him grin slightly, _This should be interesting…_

And then she punched yet again.

The very fact that she could get an attack through his strings surprised him, but he was even more surprised when he realised he had to block it. She feigned another jab before delivering quite a harsh low kick, making him wince when it collided. He parried a coming low attack and got caught up in another string of his own, before she mirrored his actions and continuously kept up her attacks.

The tides turned numerous times. She would have the upper hand, and then he would. It would look as though he was going to drop to the floor, then she would be the one wobbling on her feet. It was a match that kept the crowd on the edge of their seats, and although both of their tag partners urged them to switch, they ignored them, focused on pounding their opponent into the ground.

It was when Hwoarang grabbed her did she lose a bit of focus. Faith attempted to shove him away, but he had her in a tight grip already, and flipped her over, her body crashing back into the ground. He jumped up and away, back into stance, bouncing back and forth. She too eventually stood, but it was apparent to him that something was wrong, even as she dusted dirt off of her shoulders and thighs.

_She's leaning,_ he thought, dodging a punch that went straight for his head, blocking the barrage thereafter, _And her attacks aren't as forceful as they were before._

There was a look in her eyes that caused him to reign in any want to attack. It reminded him of someone who knew they were losing, but refused to give up. Irritated by the fact that she'd been hurt, he slightly dodged an incoming punch, grabbed her arms and tripped her again, laying her on the ground with her wrists pinned above her head. Ignoring a string of English cuss words, he leant one leg across both of hers, noticing how her face contorted with pain. One of her legs had been injured when he initially flipped her.

"Let me up," she remarked, "Or are you scared?"

"Of a wounded animal with rabies?" he retorted, "No. But I do think you should give up. You're not gonna be back at the top of your game with your leg fucked like that."

"It's fine!"

"If it's fine, then throw me off. I'm not exactly holding you down too strongly."

She indeed tried, but when she realised that she could not muster the strength to even nudge him, she sighed solemnly, the thoughts of her younger sister swimming through her head, and remarked, "I give in… I've been hurt."

He immediately got off her and offered her his hand. Angered by that show, Faith threw the hand away, not wanting to be taunted or attain sympathy when she lost something so important. Standing and limping back to the other side of the arena, she looked to Scar with sad, pleading eyes. He had to win this, he just had to.

Scar uncrossed his arms once he was in front of Hwoarang, "**You're going to pay for that, Blood Talon.**"

"**Go on, then.**"

A mighty, strong kick soared into his side. Skittering back from the impact and the fear that his ribs had been damaged again, the Korean switched stance and threw out his right leg, striking his opponent in the face. Side stepping another small barrage of kicks, he hit the larger, older man low, then high, then mid – and threw in Push Hands at the end, which was blocked.

Something was weighing him down, and Scar could see it. He was not only tired from his match against his friend, but the way he was moving was way too guarded and stable as opposed to how he'd been moving before. His initial strike to the man's side obviously frightened him – who knew he was _that_ defensive of that area? Perhaps they had not recovered wholly from the King Of Iron Fist Tournament 5. A whole year, and it was possible that they still weren't up to shape.

Deciding to play mind games with the former gang leader, the 28-year-old feigned a left jab to his ribs, before sending his right fist into his chin. Staggering back and holding the area, he feigned a kick this time to one side, and then to the other, and finally struck him with a sweeping kick to his knees, having him buckle over. He feigned for a third time before grabbing the now standing opponent and tripping him up entirely, sending a forceful kick into his thigh.

When Hwoarang stood, he realised the tactic and limped back, the flaring in his thigh proving to be quite strong. As predicted, the feigning punch came, and quickly, he grabbed the man's hand, twisted his arm over his shoulder, and threw him to the ground – and for a moment afterwards, he was briefly reminded of one of Kazama's throws that was along the same line.

Whilst Scar was standing, he watched as the Korean moved to the other side of the arena and tapped his best friend's hand. It was obvious that he did not want to risk another injury to his ribs. Razer jumped up and approached the man, waiting for him to stand up before bowing stiffly and sliding into stance. When he too returned to his stance, she immediately conducted the Misdemeanour kick – a kick Hwoarang had forfeited from his repertoire since the last tournament.

It struck him in the left arm, and to counter, his large, other hand grabbed her shoulder and shoved her to the ground, his hand never losing contact. She manipulated the momentum provided, however, and shoved his body over her head with her legs, causing him to land flat on his back. He grunted in annoyance, before leaping to his feet, seeing that his opponent was already in stance.

The fight raged on, the crowd forgotten.


	8. So Cold

_**Chapter Eight: So Cold **_

He blew on his steaming coffee, before pulling his padded, dark red vest closer to his body, as well as the long sleeves on his black top; and exhaled harshly thereafter. The noticeably cold day annoyed Hwoarang, who was watching two boys a little younger than he was. He was intrigued by them, because their mannerisms reminded him of some of the things that his dead gang members used to do – tagging. Hell, even the one with the goggles reminded him of himself, if only for that reason.

They seemed to be talking instead, though; and if he concentrated, he could vaguely hear what they were saying. The Asian boy pulled away the spray can for a minute, throwing it between his hands, trying to work out what to put on next. The other boy was drinking something – from this distance, he couldn't tell what, but it was he whom was speaking, "He just ran off like last time, shiiit…"

His accomplice did not reply. His gaze had since moved from the wall to an attractive, slightly older Asian woman; and when the speaker realised this, he too watched the woman walk, dressed in dark grey sweat pants a sleeveless, white shirt with a cherry on it, and with her hair up in a ponytail. He cleared his throat after a quick sip of his drink, and shouted, "Hey, nice ass!"

The woman stopped and looked over her shoulder, glaring at him, "Oh fuck you."

He raised his can in amusement, "Anytime!"

Once she was well out of earshot, the other boy spoke, who had been silent until now, "Chris, you know you really should quit doing that. I don't think the ladies appreciate that…" he paused, shrugged and then looked back to him, "Then again, I'd probably act like that if I ever met your sister."

Chris stared blankly at his friend, "You're a dick, Seong-Ho."

Seong-Ho grinned, well aware of the possible, impending punch to the face. To counter it, he comically puffed up his cheeks, and then placed both of his loose fists underneath his chin, "Aw, you would hit such a cute face!"

He stared blankly again, before flicking his open drink at his friend's chest, causing him to reel and shout in annoyance, "Yeah, I wouldn't."

"Dammit, that's cold! What the fuck did you do that for, douchebag?"

"I was just doing it because it's funny," Chris replied, bringing the can up to his lips again, slowly gulping down the liquid.

"…Wanna feel how hard my nipples are?"

He choked on his drink, "_What!_"

"I just said it because it's funny!"

"You fucking –"

The conversation faded off from there. Hwoarang let the smirk he'd been wearing fall, before looking back to his colder coffee. The steam was faint now, though he could still feel it slightly as he raised the plastic cup to his lips and sipped the liquid. Pleased by the temperature and the taste, he leant back on the seat, before noticing a friend's approach.

He'd asked Razer earlier in the day to come out and see him some time, because he just wanted to talk. It seemed that she finally made her approach, albeit hesitantly, and sat next to him. Her movements were as stiff as a board, "Hello."

"Hey."

Silence. Again. As usual.

"How are you?" he pressed.

"Alright. How are you?"

"I'm good. Enjoying my coffee."

"So… Why did you call me out here?"

"Just checking up on you," he replied, sipping on his coffee again.

"…That's it?"

"Mhm."

"That's all you want?"

"Yes."

She raised a hand and rubbed her face in agitation, feeling the edge of her long-sleeved shirt slide down slightly. Without looking, the Blood Talon grabbed her wrist and slid his half-open hand down it, pushing the clothing further away. He looked at the bruised skin from the corner of his eye, before placing it back in her lap. He took yet another sip of his coffee and stared straight ahead of himself, eyebrows furrowing slightly –

_Oh God, Razer, you're freezing…_

After swallowing, he spoke, "You could also tell me what that was and where it came from."

"They're bruises… from training –" she cut him off before he could continue, "And I know you do not believe me, but that's what your answer will be until circumstances change, Hwoarang."

"What has to change?" he asked.

"I guess… just the way the world is. It needs to stop being so sad. And…"

"I'm tired of the bullshit already. Out with it."

Seemingly annoyed by the comment, she ripped her arm from his hand, and folded both of her arms across her stomach, sliding down in the seat. She gritted out, "You're going to have to deal with a _lot more bullshit _before you get your answer, Hwoarang Maeng."

He lowered his cup from its former, close-to-his-mouth position and turned to look at her. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her eyes were narrowed, staring into nothingness. He wanted to speak, but he was unsure of what to say. The tone in her voice indicated that he should just stop right there and now, but that's not how he was. The fact that she even used his surname, his _real _surname, added to that. She was being cold, and he didn't understand why. He feigned the same tone, hoping to get a result, "Well you know I'm not going to back down from aforementioned bullshit. If anything I will piss you off just to get a clue."

"You want a clue?" she growled.

"For now."

"You may have one clue. It is a word. The word is 'repetition'."

"In what context?"

"Life."

His stomach turned, and he tried not to let it show in his face. His suspicions were close to correct, and he was unable to do anything. Looking down at his coffee and feigning thought, he downed the rest of it, crushed the cup in his hand, and threw it on the floor beside of the bench. He stood to his feet and stuffed both of his hands in his pockets, turned, bent over to maintain eye level and remarked, "I'm not stupid."

Razer still said nothing, even as he shrunk off into the distance.

* * *

_Dial. Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring – pick up. _

_Pause. Breathe. Speak, "Lei…"_

"_Hwoarang?"_

"_I… I need to talk to you. Can you meet me in the out the front of the hotel?"_

"_Er… Alright. Let me just change from my pyjamas."_

"_Thanks."_

_Click. Beep. Beep. Beep. Sigh._

He flicked the lighter again, desperate to get it to come to life, _Light damn you, light…_

When flames began to dance before his eyes, be brought the silver container closer towards him and moved to light the end of the waiting nicotine. He stopped before it got too close though, wondered why he was bothering, wondered why he'd found the random cigarette at the bottom of his tournament bag, and took it out of his mouth, snapping it in half and throwing it to the side. He'd quit that shit at the end of the last tournament. He didn't need to start up again.

"Good decision," Lei remarked, his voice coming from behind, "Would've had to arrest you for that."

The Korean furrowed his eyebrows, "What?"

"I'm joking," he grinned, pulling his old, brown jacket closer to his body, "So what's up? You sounded pretty upset."

He turned off the lighter and put it back in his pocket, thereafter leaning against the brick wall, "I'm worried about Razer."

"So is the whole world, considering who she's holding onto."

"I was the first," he hissed vehemently, protectively, angrily.

Lei did not miss the double entendre, whether it was planned or not. He was the first to worry. He was the first in her heart – yet he wasn't holding onto her hand and smiling. The cop glanced at the youth from the corner of his eyes, seeing worry lines on his face and an indecisive, uncertain look accompanying it, "I need you to keep an eye on her or something, or like get a small task force or some shit. I need you to watch her. Please."

"Can't do that. Tekken Force would wipe out my men."

"No no, I mean, at the Mishima Mansi – oh wait, Tekken Force patrol there too. Shit… Um…"

He scratched his head, "What _exactly _is the problem?"

"I think… I'm pretty sure… about ninety percent? I'm about ninety percent sure that Kazama's been hitting her," he didn't see the quirked eyebrow, for it vanished too quickly when he lifted his head and looked to the man standing nearby for a few moments, before looking back down to the ground, "She's got too many bruises on her arms from what I can see, she's quiet, she's pretty much like she was when I met her. I don't like it. I know something would've forced her to be like this again, like when her Dad reigned with an iron fist."

"Even if the Iron Fist Champion is reigning with an iron fist," Lei replied, slightly amused by his crafty pun, "there is nothing you can do. He has the world. He makes the laws now. As much as I hate to say it, he is like God. You could take this to me, and I could take it higher, and that guy could take it even higher, but you know what? At the very top of the scale, Jin's sitting there on the Zaibatsu Throne, one leg crossed over the other, laughing at us and dismissing the claims. There is honestly nothing you can do."

"I can protect her."

"You _could _protect her, Hwoarang, once upon a time. But not anymore."

He looked up, hurt, angry and sad, watching the long, sweeping hair move from side to side as Wulong returned to his room.

* * *

This world is becoming too cold for me.

…_The hell do you mean? You can't handle a bit of chilly weather?_

That is not what I meant. I do not feel a lot of light anymore, and because of the absence of such light, the warmth vacates with it. All I feel is cold, you included. You are cold to me nowadays.

_I don't mean it, _she replied honestly, rubbing her hands together.

I know. That's why I'm not angry. It's just… how you act when you are put in such a situation, she exhaled, Just because I was corrupt does not mean that I did not see what happened, how it happened and how you would act in certain situations. I've studied you and I know you quite well if I do say so myself.

She smiled a little. She was sitting on the concrete ground, ignoring the droves of cheering fans or booing anti-fans, her legs were crossed and she was in her old street clothing, waiting for her first opponent to step into the ring. Adjusting one of the knee pads she thought she'd lost, she continued to speak with the entity, _Angel, what do you look like? And I mean really look like. When I see you in my head… you're just me, with my body and a few of your adjustments._

I am pretty pale, I suppose. I am definitely lighter than you are. I have blue eyes and blonde hair, and it is tied back in a bun. I obviously wear white a lot. You basically know some of the other things. And I tend not to show myself because really, you don't _need _to see me. 

_Are there others like you?_

Other angels? Not that I know of.

_Did you have anyone else other than my Mother?_

Just one, before your Mother. He sent me away, and I drifted through time and space… and then your Mother called me.

_Who was he?_

Kazuya Mishima.

_Wait, what?_

Kazuya was never a bad man, it was Devil that made him bad. And I hate him for it. Kazuya was a lot like you in his childhood – timid and afraid. But he overcame that. Devil and myself were a part of him. We fought a lot. I fear that it is that fighting that made him lose his sanity… There was a sad tone to her voice, I tried to hold onto Kazuya, but I was unsuccessful. When Devil took hold, I was banished, and then called upon by your Mother. She dreamed of me and thought that perhaps it was crazy enough to work. She didn't ask for the power to overthrow your Father's command, she asked for the strength to hold on and protect you for as long as she could.

"Who would have thought that you would be my opponent?"

It seems that the fighter is male, and he has quite an accent.

She immediately jumped to her feet and span around, watching the muscular man crack his knuckles and approach the centre of the arena, "Unfortunately for you, I am having a bad day…"

Ignoring the attitude, Razer slid into stance, watching as the man in the brown clothes and trench coat… leant back and swayed slightly back and forth. There was something off about his eyes, she realised. There was a way that he looked at her that was partially unsettling, and not in some disgusting way, just… a dangerous way. He was clearly determined to win this, and it didn't matter who was his opponent.

The announcer sounded, "Number thirty-six - Razer Athane v.s. number twenty-nine - Miguel Caballero Rojo. Three, two, one, fight!"

Immediately, Miguel unleashed a low, lunging attack, his arm dragging her legs forward, causing her to buckle and fall back. He then smashed his head into hers, the forceful collision making her dizzy and weak, even though the battle only just begun. Two low punches came, and then he stomped on her foot, causing her to hop back and nurse it, despite wobbling. He laughed.

The laughter was silenced, though, with a rough kick to the side of the head. The Spaniard went down straight away, before bouncing back onto his feet, disoriented, annoyed and angry, but not out. Rolling his shoulders back, he feigned a punch before stomping forcefully on her foot, causing her to recoil back and let her guard down. In response, he slammed his forearm across her face, watching as she also went down and was brought to the same state as himself.

Annoyed by this, she narrowed her eyes and got into stance, exhaling. Miguel chuckled, the bass sound reverberating through the arena, "You think your trained skills… are enough to beat my raw _talent? _You amuse me, _little girl_. You will fall, and then I will ascend the ranks and _destroy _Jin!"

Exhaling and clenching her fists tighter, Razer immediately launched herself at him again, smacking him across the face with one fist, and then sent the other one into his jaw, ignoring the obviously pained yelp. He countered with a strong left punch, and an even stronger right one. The second attack was blocked, and in response, she side stepped afterwards, flicked out her right leg and watched him trip over. She then lifted his falling body back up with a quick left kick. A few jabs and kicks later, he was on the ground once again.

He hopped up and after weaving through numerous strings, elbows her in the back, causing her to reel. The sensation was quite painful, but it was not as painful as two, joined fists slamming down on her head, and then back up past her jaw. Disorientated, she stumbled backwards, managing to crawl away from a low kick and a foot stomp. Knowing how to counter from this position, she conducted Ipanema Wings – one of Christie's moves. It was not foreseen, and as anticipated, it tripped him up, making him unsteady.

Before he could regain balance, there was a sharp pain to his chest – she'd slammed her elbow into him. Throwing her off and clutching his chest, he moved to swing his left arm out and strike her in the face, but despite her current disorientation, she avoided it easily and countered with Hunting Hawk. The first kick got him in the throat, and she ignored the pained gurgle, keeping on her emotionless game face.

You're so cold.

The Greek was now standing at the opposite end of the field, not looking over her shoulder. She could hear Miguel's rough breathing and occasional rustle, but she was well aware that he would not get back up – he was done, that was it, this was over. That kick to the throat and elbow to the chest really rattled him. She looked to her feet, hearing the announcer declare her the victor, hearing Miguel curse and scream in rage, and he slammed his fist into the ground.

"I _will _kill him, just you watch!" he bellowed frostily, seeing red, "You can't defend him forever!"

She looked up for a moment before peeking over her shoulder, speaking more to herself than to the Spaniard, leaving thereafter with a frown, "It's not his fault."

* * *

Author's Note: Man I'm feeling so "bleh" lately D: _-siiiigh- _Anyway. Few cameos here!

The two boys named **Chris** and **Seong-Ho** belong to the wonderful _**SHADi**_ (or _**shadowivy**_ on deviantart). They're from her awesome-o-mazing web comic named _"Vicious World"._ SERIOUSLY, go check it out. She's amazingly talented and overall full of win and just so amazing to _look _at for the art, let alone read. Seriously. Help her out as much as you can guys, she's fucking fantastic. www (dot) vicious-violet (dot) com!

The unnamed girl is **Kaiya Sato **from _**souslalune's **__"Blind Justice", _who had a name drop earlier in the fic in chapter five. If you've not read _"Blind Justice" _already, then I'ma spank you with my graphics tablet or something. Seriously check it out. SERIOUSLY.


	9. He Who Laughs Last

Author's Note: …I'M SO HUNGRY.

* * *

_**Chapter Nine: He Who Laughs Last**_

Jin Kazama rubbed his right wrist. He was still sore from the match against Dragunov the previous day as during one of the man's throws, he landed on it uncomfortably. Just thinking back on the fight yesterday made his stomach flip with excitement. He longed for fighting, he longed for the look of fear on the opponent's face, he longed to hear bones crack and pained hisses… and now that those things were here again, he felt quite at home. Or rather, the devil within felt quite at home. Normal, even.

He continued to flick through the rebel paper that Lars had bought for him. After all, the world leader needed to know what was going on in the underground; he needed to know what was happening in the eyes of those who were conspiring against him. He'd been reading it for an hour so far and had been informed that whatever rebel forces were available, they would most likely attack Rochefort's Oil Fields to try and damage the MFE.

Finishing up on the current article about SPETSNAZ operations, he turned the page, noticing that it was the people's section, and further noticing that the current topic was about his girlfriend and her best friend. He narrowed his eyes and clenched the paper tightly, observing the black and white image of the two of them sitting on a bench in the park. They were both staring ahead of themselves, and the idiot had a coffee in his hand. He noted the date – the photo was from yesterday – and he began to read the article.

_FRAGILE_

_Time always tells us the mightiest of tales, and today's is of the two Iron Fist participants Hwoarang and Razer Athane, the latter of which is the girlfriend of the Tyrant himself. This photograph was taken yesterday at the main park; their faces are dejected and they're clearly having trouble speaking with one another, the woman in particular._

_We already know they're best friends, and we already know that they would've been lovers if destiny went down a different path, but we can't help but wonder what still lies in store for the pair. If their relationship is crumbling so fast, how would others last? Would Ling Xiaoyu really still stay by the Tyrant's side? Would your wife never leave you? Would your children always trust you?_

_Think back to when these two youngsters set foot into the King of Iron Fist Tournament Three. They were always there, standing side by side, happy and laughing, maybe even holding hands or lying on one another. Do you remember when Razer was nearly destroyed by Heihachi? Do you remember who picked up her body and carried her off? What about when Kazuya nearly destroyed Hwoarang? Who stayed and helped him back to the infirmary? Without a word, no words are needed really; they're always there._

_Ever since their return from their holiday in Greece, however, we can't help but notice the pair drift apart. Paparazzi photographs from their vacation showed the pair to be quite happy, so therefore we can only determine that the origin of their slow parting is none other than the Tyrant himself. We wonder, 'what is he doing to force such a thing?', because the world knows that she would not give him up without a fight. The world worries for the woman who holds onto his arm, so silent and never really there anymore; do you wonder what truly goes through her mind as she watches the world crumble around her? What about Hwoarang's thoughts, he who is being forced to watch her lose her smile?_

_We interviewed a woman who was nearby at the time of this photograph, who has asked to remain anonymous. Her long black hair tied back in a high ponytail, she looks to her hands and fidgets uncomfortably with her manicured nails, saying with a sigh, "We've seen friends drift apart and have nothing to say over the years, but for a bond that strong, it really made me question these things. It really made me feel… sad."_

_She looks up and into the distance and continues, "They were such a bright light, such an inspiration, such a… strong representation of what people could be like, if we worked hard enough. And as the world falls around us… so do they. So do they… And I'm not either of them or their Master Baek, or anyone else they know, but… even from a spectator's stance… it hurts. It shows that even the strongest shackles can be broken. Nothing can hold people together anymore."_

Jin was unaware that the newspaper was ripping. With every word that he read, he didn't know that his grip was getting tighter and tighter on it. He did not like this article's tone, not one bit. Portrayed as 'light', being shown as an 'inspiration' of all things; but then that last line, that last line made him sport a toothy grin. Yes, nothing can hold people together anymore. Absolutely nothing. Not love, not money, _nothing. _He was winning. Even in the underground, he was winning, and it pleased him greatly. The world was breathing sadness.

_We wonder what can salvage the wrecking ship. It is fragile in its bottle, battered too many times and weak from age. It hopes that maybe, one day, it'll be sailing again, the water licking at the heavy, strong wood. The hope's faded over the years – hopes for its future, its wishes, it's everything. However, hope is fragile and hard to kill. The terrain is rocky, the sailing is unsteady, and we can only wait and see if it can survive through the days ahead. _

The inner Jin smiled a little at the last paragraph as the devil within made his body throw it aside and onto the ground. With a taunting sneer, he hissed, _There is _always _hope, Devil. _Always. _And on the eve of your dying day, you will see exactly how much it can burn you, like you burn me._

That day is many millennia away, he replied curtly, opening the drawer and pulling out a mint lolly.

Placing it into his mouth, he began to reflect on the article he'd just read in the silence of his lair. He knew that there would be a time when he'd break her. He knew that there would be a time when she'd finally fight back, instead of just sit there and stare off into the distance… and to prevent that from happening, to prevent her from uprising and inspiring the masses to do likewise. After all, if his girlfriend left him, how would his minions stay? He didn't want to admit it, but he _needed _her around to keep the MFE together as it was.

He knew the Korean, once he found out (and he most definitely would, he was sure), would encourage her to leave. Perhaps not 'come back to him' per se, but at least leave for her safety. It'd take time, but she'd leave. He knew this because he knew her, he knew how she'd react to these things, he just… _knew. _The demon had months to observe the fickle woman, with her far-away gaze and rare smile, and the indecisiveness that ran so deep in her soul shining through in cracks in every part of her life.

Devil himself barely knew of what happened to her as a child, but if her reactions were anything to go by, it was definitely along these lines. It was her Father laughing at her, it was her Father with the raised hand and in full command of his slaves, just like him. And now, in her present, where she should be happy and free of those shackles, here she was, trembling and hiding again… but where as she did not love her Father, he knew that she loved the trapped man within – the only reason why she'd stayed for so long so far.

Jin was still loved. It didn't matter how anymore – as a boyfriend or merely as a friend. That's why he still held on.

Inside, the real owner of the human body he held onto the chains that bound his wrists with his hands. The metal was constantly cold, icy even, and it was impossible to tear his frozen hands away without ripping his skin. His chocolate brown eyes, still so sad and so helpless, continued to shine with an emotion that burned the devil within himself, because even though it was only a tiny glint, it was still all too bright.

_Hope is fragile and hard to kill, _Jin remarked weakly with a slight snarl in his voice, echoing the black and white print from the article.

It may be quite delicate and difficult to dispose of, Kazama… he began, pushing himself away from the desk and standing from the swivel chair, …but I am the Devil. I am the demon of all things good and the saviour of all things bad… I am a God amongst all… I am the God of the _world. _And even if it takes me for the rest of _your _life, I will remove all of mankind's hope, like I will erase every last pathetic piece of integrity and kindness in existence. 

He walked to the opposite side of the room, treading on the newspaper that was lying face down along the way, and opened the heavy, wooden door. He passed through, looked over his shoulder for a moment, before exiting, ignoring the click and squeal of the hinges. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trench coat and turned left, walking down the long corridor, many manipulative thoughts flooding his mind. He smirked at his host, feeling him grow weary underneath the cold, heavy chains.

I will be he who laughs last.


	10. Looking Glass

Author's Note: There's several things I have to address.

Firstly, please take a look at a fanfic named **"Damned If You Do, Damned If You Don't"** by **Toxic City.** It's in the Tekken section, and it's Jin-centric. It also happens to be an interpretation of what could occur later on in this very fanfic (basically, a lovely person _wrote a fanfic of my fanfic_. HOLY SHIT!). Go take a look, its worth the read and it has Razer and Seong-Hada and just go read it!

Secondly, I've been chipping away at a little project. Seeing as I won the fanfic competition back in August, I've decided **I'm going to sell fanbooks**. I'll be doing three – one for Tekken, one for Final Fantasy (VII through to X), and one for Kingdom Hearts. I've only been working at the Tekken one currently but yeah. I'll be selling them around _July 2011_, and I will be selling the _internationally_. If you want more details, just ask!

Lastly, this might be the final update before Christmas, so, Merry Christmas!

* * *

_**Chapter Ten: Looking Glass**_

The first round gradually morphed into the second.

Twenty one people failed to get over the first hurdle. For some, it was expected, where as others were outraged. Paul Phoenix looked to Marshall upon finding out that they'd both been eliminated, and, miserably, began to pray that Steve would burst through the masses and win the money they so desperately needed. Sure, Forrest may have been out of hospital now, but the bills still needed paying, and Paul's bike still needed repairing.

Many people were surprised at Nina's failure to pass the first round, considering her wisdom and experience in these tournaments, as well as the special position of Jin's bodyguard. According to Steve, Anna believed that it was deliberate so that her sister could continuously be on the lookout for potential assassins. It made sense, but to those who didn't know, to the public who watched these matches, they didn't really think of such a thing. To them, it was all about blood.

Both bears had been eliminated, as well as Mokujin, Roger Jr and Jack-6. In fact, Jack-6 had broken down against Xiaoyu. Her arms were still battered and bruised from defending such powerful, steely blows, and she felt that she would've lost for sure; she counted the breakdown as a blessing, and, looking to the eliminated Miharu, smiled thankfully and embraced her in a hug.

For once, Marduk was glad that he got eliminated, for he could now focus on finding out why the hell a supposedly dead Armour King was chasing him around everywhere, threatening to beat his head in. Bob and Ganryu, two people who'd overheard that last conflict, chuckled to themselves and raised their glasses of sake from the bar. Others amongst the group of 'glad I got eliminated _now _so I can focus on other things' included Lei, Leo, Raven and Dragunov (or so they assumed with the latter). Other participants that were eliminated included an indifferent Bruce, an agitated Christie, an enraged Miguel, a screeching Lili and a silent Feng.

Julia looked at the match up sheet that was, as always, sitting on the reception desk. This year, they'd included a second sheet, listing the numbers of each competitor to make it easier to match up and understand who was fighting who. She noted that Asuka was up against Lars, who was from the Tekken Force. She noted that Jin was facing off against Yoshimitsu. She noticed that she herself was facing Eddy, who was now working alongside Jin. She noticed that Hwoarang was fighting King. To her surprise, she noticed that Baek and Seong-Hada were against one another, as were Xiaoyu and Razer. Friends against friends… she didn't doubt that Jin had deliberately rigged it this way.

Placing the sheets neatly on top of one another, she turned from the desk and tucked some stray hairs behind her ear. Adjusting her glasses afterwards, she exited the hotel, heading for the Plaza, having a strange desire for some coffee. She'd just run out of sugar in her room, and felt far too lazy to make some for herself anyway. The sun shone brightly, obstructed by the grey clouds but still bursting through the cracks stubbornly, like the hope of the people through Jin's reign.

The wind flowed softly through the area and wrapped around her body, like whispers from eons ago. She pulled her thin jumper closer to her body, wishing for a moment that she ran back upstairs to grab something heavier and warmer; and she soon saw the coffee shop she'd been looking for, and a familiar face sitting out the front, a white plastic cup in between his hands.

In this moment of quietness, Julia, who was still undiscovered, noticed the uncertain, fearful look in Hwoarang's eyes as he gazed into the cup. He almost looked… lost. He almost looked like he'd given up on something. Alone, he took off his mask, but in the presence of others, he held it close to his face, guarding it to prevent others from seeing it for what it was. Biting her lip, she approached cautiously, but was soon spotted – and before long, he was back to his 'normal' self, a smile and a short wave, and a simple 'hey Julia'.

"How're you?" she pressed.

He paused for half a second too long, replying, "Feelin' fine."

She bowed her head slightly before entering the coffee shop, going to grab some caffeine for herself. After ordering, she turned away from the register and leant against the counter, watching the man once again through the window – but it was the woman beyond him, in the distance with tied up, black hair, a skirt, a sleeveless shirt and a generally unpleasing disposition that caught her attention because of the incessant amount of staring that she was doing, both at Hwoarang and she herself. It was as though her eyes were haunting them, if only for these moments.

It seemed Hwoarang noticed her also, and, lifting his head and giving a chilling glare at her, she slithered away through the sea of Japanese people; and when she was gone, it was like she was never there – a mirage amongst their numb minds.

Her coffee now in her hand, she moved to the table that the Korean was at, staring at the spot where the woman had been, "Do you know who she is?"

"No idea. I know she's a tournament participant, because I've seen her a few times, but I dunno her name," he replied truthfully, taking a large gulp of his coffee, "But it's not the first time she's been spying on me…" He looked from the cup and up at the Native American, "It's not the first time she's been spying on you, either Jules. You need to pay more attention to what's around you nowadays."

He drank some more, and Julia simply stared straight ahead of herself, his words clinging to every corner of her mind.

* * *

Kazuya found it most interesting the way that Jin had scheduled the fights this round.

There would be three fights a day from Monday to Thursday, which would leave Friday and the weekend free for all competitors. It was a chilly Tuesday morning, and so far, Steve and Raven, Wang and Zafina and Asuka and Lars had had their matches. Steve, Wang and Asuka failed to ascend to the next round, but Raven, Zafina and Lars would continue onwards.

There was something about the Swede that irked him, but he wasn't entirely sure what. There was a certain look in his eyes that had him pause and wonder who he really was and where he came from, and why such a look was so familiar. It took him some time, but he concluded that it was because that glare was so like Heihachi's. Any relation to his own Father, though, would be impossible – and if it was, he wouldn't really know what to think.

Shaking his head for a moment, for his initial trail of thought had been dislodged, he continued to walk, with Anna and Bruce by his sides, to the nearest arena, which was an urban war zone. It'd been specifically blocked off for the event, and although he knew it was incredibly risky showing up at the bombed area, he still felt obliged to watch at least one match from this split up family.

That's what made this round so intriguing – his son had deliberately made sure that all of Razer's 'family'-like connections, including herself, fought on the same day in different areas, so they could not be there to support one another. In all his tournament years, he couldn't recall an instant where Heihachi, Jinpachi, or he himself had done such an act. He didn't quite understand why, but he realised that it was probably unimportant and should be treated as one of those 'oh, how interesting' moments.

When he saw a shorter girl hugging a taller one with brown hair, he knew he'd shown up to Razer and Xiaoyu's match. The only two supporters there were Asuka and Panda. He assumed that Steve, Christie and Julia had dispersed themselves amongst the other two matches that were occurring simultaneously. He stopped walking, indirectly ordering Anna and Bruce to stop also, and folded his arms across his chest.

He remembered the last time he came to watch one of Razer's matches, noting at how it was against Xiaoyu's grandfather, and how he was also watching from a distance. But there were differences between these matches – for one, he was not guarded back then like he was now, and two, he would not be helping her mentally like he did last time. He simply planned to watch, not to stare into a mirror and recreate the old details.

"Good luck, okay?" Xiaoyu smiled, taking several steps away from the Greek and slipping into stance.

Razer said nothing, a grim look on her face, and got into stance. She didn't know how Xiaoyu was viewing this fight, but she already knew that it wasn't going to end well, in either person's complete favour. Something would break, and as the referee counted down from three and eventually spat out 'fight', she exhaled and threw the first punch, trying to remember the 16-year-old, bubbly youth who irritated her so much three years ago to make the match easier on her mentally.

The feel of her gloved knuckles digging into the opponent's cheek felt familiar, but the guilt that swarmed in straight afterwards did not. Not even when she fought Hwoarang for their belts, or in anger, or for money, or at all, did the remorse feel so… heavy. It seemed the feeling was mirrored when she too copped an attack to the face – she could see it in the Chinese youth's eyes, that little twinge, that little flicker hidden deep in the background.

Sidestepping a coming low hand attack, Razer slammed her right foot across her face, and followed the attack with Misdemeanour, watching the youth fall into the ground. Not allowing her any chance to rise out of the desire to end the battle quickly, she slammed her heel into the youth's side, feeling muscles part and give way, before flicking her left leg up in the attempt to get her airborne. It missed, for she had rolled out of the way; and as punishment, she received a kick to her back, followed by a few quick jabs and another kick that sent her face first into the neighbouring wall.

A shout came from behind her, and she groaned in pain when another hard palm came slamming down near her neck. A rising hand strike, a falling hand strike, and then a flicked kick came afterwards, and once that was all done, she bounded back onto her feet quickly and kicked low, then high, then mid, then high, then low; then a trick low kick that had Xiaoyu guard low in anticipation, only to be kicked in the head and then punched with both hands in the stomach.

Kazuya watched the battle toss and turn several times. Both were about the same in terms of speed, but Razer was stronger, and Xiaoyu was nimbler. It was interesting to watch his son's childhood friend fall into Phoenix Stance and then propel her body into sideways cartwheels, only to be blocked; and for his son's girlfriend to parry the second hit and slam her fist into the girl's stomach; and then for a palm to the face, and a kick to the shin, and so on and so forth in a swapping fashion.

He didn't know how long had passed nor why the younger girl was getting angrier and angrier, but he figured it was safe to assume that it was because she was not gaining the upper hand at any point. His eyebrows rose in surprise when she slammed her shoulder into Razer, who recovered quickly and tripped her over, her face landing on a large rock. She sat up and rubbed the blood away from her face, trembling violently, uncharacteristically angry; and with a strong, sad voice, shouted, "Why aren't you letting me win?"

Silence fell through the war zone.

She stood up, a hand at her chest, the other clawed and half by her side, "I want to save him, don't you understand?"

So that's why she is mad, Angel remarked, She thinks she can _save _him. I'm sorry Xiaoyu, but, he is far too deep down to be pulled back to the surface… and that statement goes for you too, Razer. It is borderline impossible now, and as much as I'd hate to say it, neither you nor her would be the ones to bring him back to the light. Not anymore.

She paused and exhaled, dropping her stance and looking at her friend straight in the eye, "You _can't _save him, Xiao."

A slap rang through the area.

Razer did not retort in kind or flinch, though she did feel the sting across her face. The 19-year-old narrowed her eyes angrily and sucked in a large breath before speaking, "You're giving up _already. _You wait a mere year and a half, and then just lie down and give up… Can't you… Can't _we… _Can't we at least _try? _He shouldn't do this, _he can't _do this, it's not right! Even if he is ruling the world, this just cannot happen! Why are you lying back and doing _nothing?_"

She'd been asking herself those same questions for eighteen months. Unknowingly feeling a few tears fall, she looked up for a few moments, trying to find strength in herself to speak, before looking back at the defiant, angry, annoyed and confused youth, "You don't know how hard I've tried… And one day, you will be where I am. You are looking into a mirror, Xiaoyu. One day… you will be unable to do anything, just like me. Try all you like, but in the end, he will kill you. And you don't want that."

Xiaoyu exhaled sharply. She'd had dreams of Jin murdering him before. They absolutely terrified her.

"You see it, don't you?" Razer questioned knowingly, "You see him murdering you in your dreams. You are forced to stand there, and through the looking glass, you watch him break your neck over and over and over again. Please, don't subject yourself to that. Just forfeit. It's best for you."

"But what about you?"

"I'll be okay," she tapped her heart, "I have someone watching over me."

She knew she was right. After all, she did have that… Angel thing, the thing she barely knew about, but still had knowledge of. And she was stronger. And she knew Jin's fighting style better. And she might've even known Jin's intentions with taking over the world and so on. She had a far better chance than she the dreamer, she who always watched through the looking glass ever had.

Xiaoyu choked on a sob and raised one hand, looking to the ground, feeling weakened by her words, "I forfeit…"

The referee's voice faded away as she fell to the ground, slamming her fist onto the concrete. Razer wished to move forward and hug her, but her uncertainty in doing so prevented her from moving from the spot. She remained motionless, watching her scream and shout until she had no voice left. Pity brewed deep within her belly, and she hoped that elsewhere, her family's fights went better than hers did.


	11. Torniquet

Author's Note: Here's one for the New Year, guys? Did you have a nice Christmas/New Year? :3

* * *

_**Chapter Eleven: Tourniquet **_

His eyes were red when Yoshimitsu carved his sword up his side. The dealer of the blow did not care for the blood spilt or for the frustrated expression on his face. He swung his sword low, cutting at the man's legs, before raising it up in a circular motion, throwing him off balance. Purple haze emitted from his cursed sword, and as he span forward with a punch and then yet again with another sword swipe, he hummed in approval, aware that he wasn't going to win this match.

But the least he could do was damage the man who'd damaged the world.

He span again, sword at the ready, but it was blocked with ease; and it was when he was face to face with Jin did he notice the strength of the eyes. They were a rich red, almost like blood – and he stared for too long, for they vanished and reappeared with brown as he was thrown away. He landed on his back, and quickly rolled out of the way of a fierce punch to the ground. Now standing again, he span in more circles, kicking low three times before kicking mid again. This kick was parried on instinct, and he was suddenly grabbed by the throat and raised in the air, looking down at a pleased, cruel smirk.

Yoshimitsu clawed at his hands, before using the weapon he had in his hand, stabbing Jin in the wrist. The Japanese tyrant dropped him instantly and retreated, feeling the sword be pulled out slowly. He fell to one knee and looked at the wound, observing how blood drooled out of it and how the wound was just _gaping _at him, taunting him even. He looked up slightly when the sword was brought into his field of vision, pointing at him, speaking in that creepy, mechanical, aged way, "Power corrupts the purest of souls."

Within a few seconds, the roles had been reversed. It was Yoshimitsu who was on his back, Jin who was standing over him with his opponent's own sword pressed hard against his throat. He grinned, slight fangs bared aggressively, a warning to the Manji Clan Leader who'd been trying to do good over his entire lifetime. Tilting his head back a little, he growled, "Power uplifts the most tainted of men."

He did not stab, and merely allowed the katana to drop, falling sideways due to gravity, now lying across his chest. The 22-year-old stood taller and turned his head to the referee, who immediately began to declare the victor, "Jin Kazama, number seventeen, proceeds to the third round!"

Jin withdrew his ringing, undamaged cellphone from his pocket, noting how it was Lars, and placed it to his ear, also watching the wound on his hand slowly stitch itself up with thanks to the Devil's powers. With a gruff 'yes', he left the arena, heading to the mansion with Nina and Eddy guarding him, keeping a sharp lookout for any potential protestors, attackers or killers.

* * *

When he returned to the mansion, Nina and Eddy left him in the care of the Tekken Force patrolling the area. When he returned to the mansion, he was virtually alone. When he returned to the mansion, Razer was in the guest bedroom (that had been designated as Hwoarang's), and she was on the phone talking to him. This irked him more than he let on.

His bedroom was next to the guest one in question, and so, Jin walked in, got changed, and cleaned a few of his scratches whilst listening to the conversation she was having. She'd put her phone on speaker, so he could hear Hwoarang's obnoxious voice also. As they spoke, he observed the wound that Yoshimitsu's sword created, pleased that it had mostly healed up. The scar would be gone by the morning, hopefully.

She was laughing. His eyebrows furrowed immediately – she shouldn't be laughing in there, she should be in here, being sympathetic over his wounds and placing a hand over his to try and make it feel better. In fact, she shouldn't be feeling happy at all – she should be dragged down and upset, like the real Jin was; and there were so many thoughts going through his head now that he didn't quite know what to do, or why he was so annoyed by this.

For a eighteen months I have tried to force you into my image, like _you should've _been, he seethed, sliding his trench coat off of his shoulders, and yet you continue to rebel against the mould I put in place, he kicked off his shoes and socks and stared at himself angrily in the dresser's mirror, You should fear me. You should obey me. You should _hate_ me, and him. _What _do I have to do to get you to hate me? 

She was suddenly in the reflection, looking at him strangely, a hand on the door frame.

He'd suddenly moved from his position before the mirror and dragged her inside, slamming the door shut and locking it; and he held her against it, holding her jaw, forcing her head to the side, and inquired softly, "Tell me Razer, are you afraid of me?"

You know where this is going to lead, Angel sighed, already curling into herself.

"No."

She was suddenly made to look at him, "Do you always do as I ask? Do you obey me?"

"I'm not a puppet to be lead around on a string," she remarked blankly, "I have my own will. I follow it."

He cocked his head to the side, grinning snidely, "Do you hate me?"

She said nothing. Her mouth was a firm line – part of her screamed yes, part of her screamed no.

"I said," Jin hissed, digging his fingers into her cheeks, "Do you hate me?"

Frustrated and certainly in no mood to take his bullshit, Razer pushed Jin away with as much strength as she could muster. Her eyes were narrowed and her fists were already clenched. She moved into a defensive position, her mind clouded with too many thoughts, just like her partner, "I hate what you do and why you do it, and I hate what you have become! I hate what you have made of him!"

Jin immediately catapulted himself forward with a ready fist, and threw it into her stomach. She managed to block it, but that initial punch was to serve as a distraction. A second one soared into her jaw, and she took several steps back, recoiling. The force of the attack already made her dizzy. She placed a hand to the wound and dodged underneath another, only to trip over the footstool in the room, landing face first on the timber floor.

He rushed towards her and flipped her over. Grabbing her by the front of her shirt, he grinned, enjoying the display, and he murmured, "Good."

A slap across the face, a kick to the side. She didn't fight back.

"You obviously know then that it has been me for this last year and a half," he chuckled, lifting her until she was able to stand on her own two feet. Afterwards, he released the grip on her shirt, "That your dear Jin has finally succumbed to the poison… as he liked to call me," he tilted his head back and looked far off into the distance for a moment, before refocusing on her, "I think this is better, don't you? The devil has come out to play… permanently.

"You should hear him in my head," he laughed, "_My _head, now, it is _my _head… Would you like to listen?" Refusing to take 'no' for an answer, he seized her right hand and placed it against his face, making her stroke his cheek for a moment, before forcing her fingers to press against his temple, as they had done to each other numerous times before, so they could hear and see and feel. He shut his eyes, "Listen to him. _Listen._"

Angel was quickly building a fort around Razer's mind, forcing both Devil and Jin out, No poison will seep into my master. I won't allow it.

The wall that she'd built so far was cleaved in two by Devil's own voice, as it echoed through all of their minds, You won't _allow _poison to seep through? You won't _allow _it? You amuse me, Angel. You amuse me so much. I am not poison – I am _salvation. _

Angel exhaled and looked around Razer's mind, looking for her consciousness. When she realised that her eyes were closed and that she was standing entirely still, she realised she'd been sucked into Jin's mind and was seeing into him just as he'd seen into her during her own nightmares.

_She was standing in an entirely black room, not seeing a floor but still standing. There was a single, white light casting down on Jin's form, the one she knew and remembered, with the gentle, chocolate brown eyes and darker coloured skin. It was still pale, though, but not as pale as it was in the real world. His eyes were barely open, he was suspended in mid air, and chains were holding him both up and down from all sides._

_The chains were like the ones she used to have around her arms, but had since broken free from. The chains were like the ones she saw on Jin's arms when he was physically in Devil's form, with the red eyes, the fangs and the markings. The fact that Devil could exist in the outside world and not hold all of these characteristics made her realise that where as she succeeded in holding her off, and where as Kazuya succeeded in gaining control, Jin had lost his defences, and with it, the internal war._

_She strained to hear him sobbing softly. She strained further to hear that the weak sobbing, the sobbing that had so much vulnerability in it, was in fact words, two words that were whispered over and over again, even as he looked around; seeing her but not quite seeing her, staring at her but staring through her, knowing she was there but not knowing, "Help me."_

Get out of there, Angel commanded.

_She took several steps forward, eventually breaking into a run. There had to be some way to make him see that she was seriously here, that he could still get out, even though it looked completely helpless, even though it felt as though the poison that was the devil within had seeped into every corner of his mind, body and soul, "Jin, I'm here… Please, fight back."_

The link was severed by both Angel and Devil. Angel had dragged Razer away, Devil had pulled her hand from his head and began to squeeze it tightly, until it hurt. She was then thrown to his right, into various furniture and then, she eventually fell to the ground, rubbing her thigh. He took several steps towards her and hissed, "Go on then, stand up. Fight back _for _him."

She swept her leg across the ground, knocking him over, and jumped to her feet again, dizzily holding her head and slipping into stance simultaneously. Her movements were sluggish when he stood and threw punch after punch and kick after kick. Some attacks were blocked, others weren't, and there was blood coming out of her nose at an annoying rate after a fierce punch to it.

Razer managed to strike him in the chest with her knee at one point, before grabbing the footstool she'd tripped over earlier and slamming it into Jin's side. He stumbled back several feet, a hand pressed against the wounded area; and, angry and annoyed, he came forward, grabbed her face, and slammed the back of her head into the wall opposite. He was infuriated. Absolutely infuriated.

"What are _you _trying to be?" he asked curiously, stroking hair away from her face, glaring into her green eyes, "His tourniquet? Are you trying to stop me from spreading further? Well let me tell you this, dear, you are far too late for that…" A hand was at her side, and his nails were digging into her flesh, "Are you trying to be the person who sets him free? Because you will not be that, either… His soul cries for deliverance, because he's forced to watch _me_ live through _his _body… and that is not a life," he threw her to the ground and shook his head angrily, "That is _not _a life. I know the woman inside of you feels the same."

The statement did not escape her, but she still immediately countered, "At least I treat her with dignity and respect, just as she does to me. Perhaps you should do the same to _your _host, because it certainly won't hurt to at least _try _it."

There was a knee on her chest, and his hand was at her throat, gripping it tightly, digging his nails in. She was already beginning to become dizzy, even as she tried to get more air into her body and trying to break his grip. She heard him speak, "You are lucky that you do not have a family I can kill…"

She said nothing, but she was lifted by the throat and tossed numerous feet away and onto the bed. His blood was boiling, and Razer inhaled as much air in as possible once her body did leave his hand. She placed a hand to her head, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get a hold of herself.

Jin approached her, arms folded across his chest, and looked down on her. He sneered, before turning away and leaving to go and have some dinner, "Oh… My mistake. You do."


	12. Haunted

Author's Note: Hey u gaiz. A few things:  
- That fic I hooked you up to a few chapters ago (fanfic of WFM)? IT'S A MULTICHAP NOW JIF21DOIREFJKL  
- …My Hwoarang is so shit now. Seriously I can't even JFSR properly. /competitive, gameplay-knowledgeable bitching  
- Iiiiiiiiiiiiii go back to Uni in less than a month. –FUCKING CRY- XD  
- So yeah… I has a big, fat ugly writer's block on everything. 8D Its so awesome (not) XD  
- ENJOY! :3

_**Chapter Twelve: Haunted **_

Everybody dreams.

Dreams are an expression of the unconscious, be it in an imaginative sense, or a subconscious message. They're a succession of thoughts, images, sounds, ideas, emotions, _anything _that the mind experiences during sleep. Dreams cannot be coordinated or chained by the dreamer, but they can often reoccur, giving a nightmarish, haunting sense to them – a bad dream. Sometimes, one cannot remember a dream, for better or for worse. Other times, they are unforgettable.

Xiaoyu had the same dream she'd been having for the past year – Jin choking her to death, and then being quite pleased about it – and then she would wake, drenched in sweat, exhale sharply, look at Panda who was still sound asleep, and then curl up in a little ball. She would vehemently try not to fall asleep only to drift away again, and whatever dream she had then, she wouldn't remember, no matter how happy it was. The next day would be almost like a blur, with only little spikes of happiness, and then she would fall into the same pattern again.

Her friends at school would ask her 'Xiao, what's up?', because her zombie-ish nature really made them worry; and she would merely shake her head and feign a smile, insisting that nothing was wrong. She would then tell them of funny things that happened during the past tournaments and ask about that new single that KAT-TUN released. They'd eye her for a few moments more before proceeding to blurt on and on about that band, and numerous others; and she would fall away into silence, haunted by those nightmares.

Miharu had not been able to remember any dreams for years, pinning it to 'unimportance', to which Jinrei would shake his head and remind her that dreams, no matter how improper or stupid they might actually be, are in no way unimportant. If she concentrated hard, sometimes she had memories of her and Hwoarang, other times she had memories of her and her brother drawing all over the walls when they were very young. No matter what, though, whatever she _could _vaguely recall, they were only like little wispy threads that barely lasted for more than two seconds, and they were always memories.

It upset her more than she let on. A lot of her friends around her were having these unspeakable, evil nightmares, and she herself had none – or, she had one, and then was unable to remember it under any circumstances. It made her worry more so that there was an evil threat approaching, an oncoming storm, and she couldn't see any of it or have any idea what was going on. She learnt to ignore it, but, sometimes there were instances where she'd wonder.

Jinrei's dreams, which he did remember, had been strong and terrifying for the past few months, growing more and more sinister with every day that passed. He dreamed of a beast that possessed a thunderous roar and glowing red eyes. This same beast, though, felt bound, and he was incredibly angry. It was this anger that shook the aged man to his very core. It was these evil, power-hungry driven thoughts that made him wonder what he was doing here, trapped and helpless – and he wondered if it was inside Jin. He wondered also if everybody in the world dreamt of Jin – he knew, of course, of his granddaughter's worries.

Within about a month of these nightmares, he noticed that he'd begun to hum an unfamiliar tune. Where it came from, he didn't know. Why he began to hum it, well he wasn't sure of that either. It was little segments at first, and then eventually a full song, repeating over and over again. He noticed a few others around the area were beginning to do it also. He approached one of Xiaoyu's school friends and inquired whether or not she knew the name of that song and where it was from. Sadly, he didn't know, but he felt it was tied to his dreams.

Unlike a lot of his friends, though, Seong-Hada had pleasant dreams. They were dreams of all of his friends being happy and laughing, which was something he sorely missed. He'd then turn away from them and resume cooking hamburgers for them, and impatiently waiting for the milkshakes to be done also. In his mind, in his _world_, there was no Jin, and there was no sadness. There was only happiness – and in the real world, until such bad things went away, he'd promised himself to always smile.

He thought to himself that if he kept smiling, then his friends would be happier and stop worrying about those haunting eyes and what not. He hadn't seen them himself, but from what he could hear from his friend's, they weren't anything to be happy about. He remembered seeing Xiaoyu come to the dojang once after school because she wanted to hang out, but her expression made him bite his lip, and he spent the whole day trying to make her laugh by tickling her. It eventually worked. Now if he could only get everyone else to smile with him like she did on that day.

Baek wished he was as optimistic as his newest student. He worried too much about the dreams he could recall, and as the blue-haired youth would say to try and distract such troublesome thoughts, 'it'll give you more wrinkles, and you don't want that!'. There was a foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach, like Jinrei – the two men had discussed these feelings before and both concluded that nothing good could come of this war or of this feeling. He dreamt of scarabs and beetles that liked to crawl over muscled flesh.

There was a particular dream he had, once, where he woke up on a cold floor. There were some blue light sources – he was extremely tired and was unable to tell what they were, all he knew was that they were blue – and he could hear music echoing throughout the area, like the sounds of drums and chanting. He stood to his feet and surveyed the area, rubbing his arms because of the cold, and, curious, investigated the room further, seeing stone stairs ascend opposite him, and knowing that there was an open door behind him.

When a dark growl rumbled through the area, he exhaled sharply and continued to look around for even the smallest bit of movement. The wind suddenly picked up, shutting off all of the light sources – he realised now that they were candles – and closed Baek's only known exit from the room. Not knowing any other way to go, he climbed up the stairs, hearing more than the growling now. There were little shrieks and some cackles; and he placed a hand on the door in front of him, opening it slowly and sticking his head inside.

What he saw was a monster. What he saw after that was a bright, glowing red, charging straight towards him, towards his head – and then he woke up. He paused for several long moments before going to immediately make himself some tea to settle down. He nearly spilt it several times, but once it was in his system, he relaxed slightly and decided to tell Jinrei the next day, which he did. Jinrei told him that he had similar dreams, as did Julia Chang. He hadn't been the same since then. He constantly made sure his students were okay, looking over them, analysing them for how they were feeling and so on – the main three noticed this and frowned.

When Lars wasn't working, he was leaning against a wall and looking down at his boots solemnly, hating Jin and everything he'd done so far to everyone in the world. On extremely tired days, his eyes would shut for just a moment, and then a moment would morph into ten minutes. The imageless sounds that danced behind his eyelids for those ten minutes had something in his stomach stir, and it forced him to wake to his current, unhappy, routine-driven and otherwise, or seemingly, meaningless life.

He could hear the sound of drums echoing through a cavernous space. He could hear heavy breaths, fists colliding, screams, panicking, shackles, chains, an unidentifiable sound, and the pitter-patter of feet as they ran away from this heavy source of dread. He didn't share these dreams with anybody, and merely kept them to himself. The Swede would eventually down a coffee – his own, makeshift fika paus – and get back to work, and the sounds would fade away until the next time he took a small nap. It was then that those drums would return, haunting him, until he found himself tapping his bicep in the same rhythm.

Jin's dreams were strangely controlled. Where as the others had the dreams come to them, he essentially 'made' them. He would dream of war, he would dream of bloodshed and macabre horror, and he loved every moment of it. The real Jin, though, was of course sickened by these images and could do little to erase them from his mind. He simply had to put up with them, no matter how hellish they were or who they involved, or what happened to them.

What Jin noticed that Devil did not notice was that in every dream, out of the corner of his eye, there was a beast, watching and lurking, with glowing red eyes. Every time he tried to turn his head and follow the beast, he was in the other corner of his eye. The entire process was frightening and frustrating – he could barely see the face, but he knew that the beast had a long head and scaly skin. He thought for a few moments also that there were fangs, but he couldn't be too sure. He wished he could see the beast as a whole, instead of allowing it to continuously haunt him.

Razer's dreams were ruthless and unpredictable, sparing for those red eyes that she'd heard from others. She recalled a dream where there just millions of blinking red lights in the shape of eyes, sprinkled like stars amongst a black background. Whenever she looked directly into a pair of them, she could vaguely see the reflection of herself, an immediate wall behind her, and chains dripping around the area. She could also hear chanting and drums. She usually managed to wake herself before the music presumably crescendos.

She remembered another dream where she looked into a different pair of eyes and saw Hwoarang lying dead on the floor again – but rather than seeing the Ground Zero floor, it was the floor of the Gargoyle's Perch, which was Jin's throne room; she also heard herself scream from a year ago. She woke up from that one so fast, sweaty and shaking and absolutely freezing, and Jin hadn't noticed. She immediately went down stairs to cry and hyperventilate and be reassured by Angel that that was never going to happen again, _ever. _

Where as others such as Asuka, Steve, Christie and Lei had mixed dreams – dreams of family, dreams of friends, horrid nightmares and so on and so forth – Hwoarang could barely sleep. He was haunted by his own ideas and his own reflections rather than actual dreams. The dreams he'd have when he would doze off for a while had been normal so far – a memory, a want – it was his conscious thoughts that had him set in such a daze. He'd stay up many nights, just thinking – until one night he'd exhausted himself and finally drifted off and fell into a haunted dream.


	13. Imaginary

Author's Note: This will most likely be my final update before I return to University (Feb 17th). Wish me luck guys. Give me your love and I can hopefully make it through this year as well. :3

* * *

_**Chapter Thirteen: Imaginary **_

_The air here is thick._

_It's like I'm deep underground, or something, and the air here is sparse and thick. It's an effort to breathe, because I feel so heavy, and my lungs feel so empty and weak. I want to stop, I want to stop moving, but something's making me go further down, even though vision's close to impossible. It's pulling me down towards it, as is my insane will and my insane desire to protect something, or someone._

_It's so dark that when I try to put my hand in front of my face, all I can see is black. It's so hard to breathe in here that if I nearly fall down a step and gasp, I choke a little and splutter. But what strikes me most is this obnoxious music that's flowing through the area. As I get closer to the bottom of wherever the hell I am, it gets louder, and something really doesn't feel right. The choral ringing just repeats over and over – it's starting to make my ears hurt, but I ignore it._

_A stair is suddenly missing, and I fall flat onto my face. The drop was a fair way, and my limbs ache from the impact. The gravel rubs into my skin, and I quickly jump to my feet, brushing it off uncomfortably. Still dizzy, the voices seem like they've multiplied and are ringing around my head. They're still fairly easy to ignore, though, but I know they're still there. It feels like the same tune's been around for a long, long time, in the background somewhere. _

_For a moment, there's a small shine, like a tiny gleam of light. It's white at first, but when it shines a second time, it's red. It's like a straight line, cutting across the darkness. If I squint, there's some light blue flickering around in the distance, but its pretty faint compared to that random burst just then. The walls feel cold as I put one hand on the one to my left, and continue to feel around. It soon stopped going straight and began to curve – I'm in the room now, and it's circular._

_There's rattling, like chains – like two sets of chains, actually – and there's two types of breathing. One's human, soft and almost asleep, almost dead, even – the other is inhuman, ragged, furious and fierce. It's growling. It's _impatient _growling. It's impatient growling that's getting stronger with every instant that passes, and I wonder just how close I am to the creature and why it released another laser beam randomly._

_I watch as it soars across the room, hitting the wall near the other human – the little light it gives off shows me a hand that's bound. That must be why I'm here – to free this person. Inching over towards the person, I look over my shoulder occasionally, hoping that this beast can't see me. It's when I'm way too close does the growl increase, and, unable to help myself, I spin and slip into a defensive position. That's when another beam soars towards me, and I drop to the floor to avoid it. And then there's another and another and another, and I jump up and side step each and every one._

_It's when the silence takes hold again do I only hear myself and the beast breathing. One of the beams must've hit the other person. Sadness and pity squirms around in my stomach, but something deep inside of me is begging me not to turn around, as lights suddenly shine behind me – never in front of me – and despite this new light, I still can't see the beast beyond the shadows._

_The singing gets louder – a crescendo – and, inexplicably, there's tears falling from my eyes. I'm just staring into darkness. My mind wonders why I'm so distressed and upset, but it's like my heart already knows who is behind me. I'm suddenly on my knees, and then I'm sitting, curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth, still crying but with no reason to and no knowledge as to why. It feels like I'm going to throw up. It feels like I'm going to pass out. I'm feeling all of these things, but I don't know or understand _why.

_There's suddenly more, shining light from behind me, and two blinking, red eyes before me. There's breath right in front of my face – it's the beast, he's left his shackles and has inched closer – and I don't move, because whatever's holding me here, whatever's inside of me is refusing to move, and I know its because of whoever is behind me. The beast opens its mighty mouth – I can see its teeth – and descends onto me. I don't move, fight, scream or cry as he swallows me – but I feel nothing, and soon find myself in darkness once again. I see no squelch-y, red insides. No nothing._

_I'm not being swallowed, I'm not surfing down this thing's tongue, I'm not clinging to the walls to try and pull myself back up – I'm floating. Just aimlessly floating, in this endless black. Unlike last time, though, I can at least see my hands. Despite all of this… my cheeks are still wet. I'm still crying, even as my body moves forward to a standing position – I'm standing on _nothing. _Breathing in a large sniffle and pedalling forward, I scan the area for anything, but it's like one of those scenarios where you're standing on the edge of a beach and look out into the ocean, watching it go on forever and ever and ever._

_The sadness is starting to choke me. I drop to the ground again and sit – cross-legged this time – and rest my head in one of my hands, my fingers tugging at my hair. _Why _am I acting like this? _What _is making me feel like this? What the fuck is going on, and why can't I understand it?_

"_This sucks," I mutter._

_The two words echo – the only sound. It's only just occurred to me that I'm alone. _

…_I fucking _hate _being alone. _

_Ever since I was a child, I fought to _be in_ what I hated, because I didn't really see any other way to life. I didn't want to get close to anybody – Baek was the only exception at that really young age, because I was so young and he had tried so hard. All I ever wanted was someone to get me out of here. I didn't want to be alone, really. I didn't want to be caged in my own, destructive thoughts. Destructive feelings. I'm so fucking _destructive. _And she understands that._

_And then, I lift my head, and I see myself at five years old._

_The kid version of me is sitting in exactly the same position as I am. He's got a hand in his black hair, his legs are crossed, he's got dark grey track pants on, and he's got a large, red jumper on. He's got different goggles on to me, though – I took off those ones at the end of the Fifth Tournament, because I'm terrified that I'll break them. They're all I have left of my parents, and they now hang on the back of my door, greeting me in the morning, bidding me goodnight when the moon's high._

_Parents… Oh God._

_He's crying. He's crying for Mum and Dad. His little voice is barely there, but I can still hear it. I just watch. I watch him rub his nose with the back of his jumper, I watch him look around the giant, empty room, I watch him shout – but most of all, I can feel his pain, because I _remember _it and I'm watching it once again. That feeling of loneliness, initially not innate, but made so over time… It's akin to what I'm feeling in this black room right now – and then, five year old me starts to –_

_No. Don't. Not –_

– change _into me at fifteen years old, with an entirely new grim expression, ripped jeans and a fierce attitude. He's broken, he's crying for Baek, he's kicking things that aren't there, but when his foot comes into contact with the item, they still made sounds. He's cursing, wishing Baek was here, fucking _hating _himself for being unable to do anything – and then he's entirely quiet, just staring at the ground. There's large inhalations on occasion, like he's hiccuping – and then he's swallowed up by the sound of his screaming, both of his hands pressed to his head, on his knees, bashing a fist into the ground, curling up into a foetal position – and then he vanishes. And I remember._

_Then there's silence, like night, save for my own occasional sobbing. It's barely audible, but it's there._

_A voice sounds, __You have already lost your Mother and your Father, and your Master in the past… It is only by a miracle did you meet the latter once again. But inside of you, a part of him still feels… _missing. _Doesn't he?_

_I jump to my feet and spin around in a small circle, looking for the origin of this voice. It's partially familiar, partially not – and I still have no idea where it's coming from. Not until something's restraining me from behind. Two, strong arms are holding mine in place, even as I kick viciously and demand to be released and to know who the fuck this is._

_Your sanity is like a ceiling,__ the voice – the _male _voice – declares. There's a definite grin in it, and the owner of the voice carelessly throws me to the ground. He's stalking around me, like a cat, __A square ceiling within your childish, little fort that guards your heart… An unfamiliar ceiling, and it is being held up by four pillars. These pillars are your memories, your feelings… those you hold dearest to your heart. They are not _stone…_ they are _human.

_I see a gloved, red hand – but the glove is kind of scaly, and has giant, black claws protruding out of it – and he moves it once, causing an image to appear. It's just like he described – a ceiling, but it's slanted. It's not sitting entirely upright, and, as he pushes me forward, not releasing me, I survey the pillar furthest away from me with my sienna eyes._

_It's on the ground, broken and crumbled. The pieces of roof around it are also destroyed, but the major block of it is leaning over the majority of the mess, albeit it is frayed near the edges. It's then I see patterns of this pillar – it's of stone, but like the voice said, it was a person. The stone was fashioned in the shape of a person – a person I know – it's my Father. His face is stern, but there's a hint of a boyish grin. His arms were broken by his sides._

_My head turns to the second one nearby, and I realise it's in the shape of my Mother. She's wearing a smile, even though her pillar's entirely broken, even though I'm still crying and don't get why. Her hands would've been clasped over her stomach – which had what would've been my baby brother inside – if the pillar hadn't been shattered. I then turn to look at the third one – this one is in Baek's image – but unlike the previous two, he's still standing, though barely. Most of him is together, his arms are still folded across his chest, but it's like he's been split in half, and the roof is resting on both of those halves shakily._

_The fourth and final one is Razer. She is in no way, shape or form damaged. She's in the old street getup – the black jeans, the black jacket, that stupid cloth I made for her sitting around her waist to hide the devil gene mark – which was now white, like a scar – one hand in her pocket, and the other in her hair. There's a small smile on her face, one that others might've easily missed, but I never would. Her eyes look soft. She's holding up most of the roof._

_And suddenly, the imaginary, speaking creature that had created this image was before me. He'd finally stopped pushing me around and being where I couldn't see him, and appeared _in front _of me. His face filled my whole vision; his eyes are _red, _his skin is pale as paper, there's black ink pouring down his face, there's horns, there's fangs in that wicked snare, there's black hair… and it's _all Kazama.

…_It's Devil Jin._

_He chuckles darkly and stretches his black wings out as wide as he can. His right arm is also raised, perfectly horizontal – and he turns about forty five degrees and smashes the back of his fist into the only standing pillar. Razer's pillar smashes into two pieces, but both pieces fall back and crumble further. The roof caves down also – Baek's pillar's barely holding it up, if at all – and the roof itself has divided into numerous sections. As it breaks, I start to tremble more._

_You will be forever alone, Maeng,__ he spits, and I don't wonder where he got my last name from, __just like me._

_I look to Razer's broken pillar._

_By the end of the King of Iron Fist Tournament Six,__ he states blankly, __You'll have lost your mind._

_He starts to laugh – that rich, sickening laugh – and I look down, exhaling sharply, trembling all over, still crying. I reach up and go to wipe these tears away, but when I pull my hands back and look at them, I see no water – I see blood. I'm crying _blood. _I've been crying _bloody tears _this whole time and I had no fucking idea. The thought makes my stomach turn._

_The laugh is still there, reverberating around the area he's no longer in. He's vanished, the ceiling and pillars he made appear have also vanished – and the black slowly turns into an array of colours, the most predominate of which is a fleshy red that's controlling most of the area. I look up and then down – and below me is a tongue. I'm also apparently lying on my stomach now, and I look up, seeing sharp, white teeth – and I look out to see the room I was in before. The ground is an assortment of black and grey, as are the walls – there's blue fire on black candleholders – and there's the last of my pillars, unmoving and no longer alive._

_The last thing I see as I scream and await a deep-sleep dreaming in the beast's stomach is a different woman – an imaginary goddess, even, with black hair and a curvy body – standing to the side of what I can see out there. It takes me the last two seconds of my living state to realise that it's the woman who has followed me since I got to this tournament –_

_And then there's gurgling, and a roar, and I'm pulled –_

Hwoarang woke with a start.

The first thing he did was move a hand to his face and pull it away immediately, making sure that the tears he could feel, albeit dry-ish, were not of blood. Once satisfied, he hopped out of bed and immediately bolted towards the bathroom to throw up the contents in his stomach – the second thing he did since the imaginary world left him.

Once he was out of the bathroom – after vigorously brushing his teeth – he headed to the lounge room and took a seat on the couch, leaning forward and still distraught by the images. It was too much for him to handle. It was too powerful for him to stomach right now. The beast, seeing and feeling and seeing himself at those younger ages, Devil Jin and his premonition – this _all _had to mean something. Something was coming – that beast, perhaps – and it was going to shake the world.

That didn't terrify him nearly as much as being alone again.

He raised his head and looked out the window towards his right, clenching the rocket pendant, and wondered what the days ahead would bring.


	14. Divide

_**Chapter Fourteen: Divide **_

Fear of the nightmare didn't allow him to sleep or even nap for the rest of the day.

He had to stay awake anyway, he reasoned with himself, because he had a battle within the next few hours regardless. He really wanted to go back to sleep and get rid of the paranoia that was beginning to chew him from the inside out. Although that dream terrified him, it did make him realise three things. The first one was that there was some big, bad monster coming, _again. _The second one was that he truly feared loneliness – he knew he didn't like it, but not to that extent. The last one was that, over time and because of how long she was there and what they'd done for each other, he'd become heavily dependent on Razer. He didn't know why he didn't see it before, and really, he didn't care.

He'd found himself being quite 'on-the-lookout' when around her now. Looking out for those red eyes, looking out for anything or anyone that might've wanted to come and grab her, and steal her away, and so on. She noticed, but paid no mind, reasoning that he was probably just being protective. What she was quite worried about, though, was the perplexed, angry, confused and scared look on his face he had in that very moment, as he stood before his opponent.

She was a newcomer, for she'd only been seen in this tournament – just like Razer's next foe, the young girl with the pink hair. Her hair was black and tied up, she had a maroon skirt on, she had a pale-gold and maroon, low cut shirt on, as well as numerous other exotic bits and pieces all over her curvy body. She was clearly of Middle Eastern appearance, and it was when she looked past Hwoarang and at her for a few moments with a lingering, brief, acknowledging grin did she realise that this had been Lars' Tag partner, the silent and mysterious Zafina.

…Why her best friend was incredibly irked by her presence was beyond her.

She was given an answer when Hwoarang growled, "You're the chick that's been following me and Julia."

She inclined her head slightly, essentially agreeing with his statement, before squaring her shoulders and sliding into stance. Hwo managed to rein in the urge to quirk his eyebrow at the stance, and merely got into his in response, awaiting the referee's countdown and waiting for the word 'FIGHT!' to sound. It was when he was waiting did he realise he had trouble looking at her emotionless face – the same one that watched him die in his dream.

As soon as he heard the word, he lashed out at her, as though she was a figment of his imagination that would waver upon contact. Instead, he felt her warm arm rise in defence against his quick, left-handed punches. She didn't manage to block the low left kick though, and when he sidestepped out of the way to try and continue his assault, he was met with two arm strikes, coming down on him like thunder from above. He didn't block it. He was sloppy.

"Did you not sleep well last night?" she questioned with a slight smirk on her face. She was now in a different stance – standing on one leg, the other bent, and her arms close to her body, but poised to attack at any moment. The Korean rushed to attack, but, in his annoyance and frustration, he was struck by a spinning leg. The attack catapulted him into the air, before one – two – three quick jabs got him, and then those arms came crashing down once again.

He rolled out of the way of a coming heel stomp, and, already frustrated, lashed out with a low kick. As he rose to a standing position, he threw his right leg out, watching as the Tsunami Kicks collided too. Feigning a few jabs and throwing in real kicks for good measure, he watched as Zafina's – or so that's what the announcer called her, and what he remembered her saying to Lars all that time ago – face remained void of emotion. He was amazed that she did not even wince whenever she was struck. She merely stared, like a spider with its eight, unblinking eyes.

And then she was suddenly crawling up to him – and completely perplexed, he merely watched as she threw her leg out and caught him in the chest, before the other one joined it. She was then standing again, sweeping her leg across the ground to hit him in the head. He stood, dizzy from the strike, and furrowed his eyebrows. Her moves were so foreign, so _strange, _that, he realised, he had no idea how to counter them. At all.

He was in a guessing game.

From her leg sweep, she rose, slamming her hand up and into what she hoped was his jaw. He managed to avoid it and grabbed her from the side, conducting his Bring It On throw. Several attacks later, she was on the ground, still emotionless – but quickly lurched forward, striking him in the stomach, before another arm whacked him hard in the shoulder.

"Your attacks are sloppy and uncoordinated," she stated blandly, standing and stretching a little, "You are considered by the world to be a truly prized fighter – the strongest after the Mishima Family, no doubt. You are considered even to be a _possible _hope for bringing down the Tyrant, seeing as you fought him to a draw in the previous tournament…" The smirk burst forward fully, "Oh, my mistake. You didn't get to finish fighting him. You were interrupted," her voice lowered so that only he could hear him, "You died."

He froze. Memories began to burn him. They ran before his eyes, just staying there. He could see all sorts of things – he mainly saw grey, and rain, and blood. He saw fighting, bickering, furrowed eyebrows, tightly clenched fists; and he could feel an old determination swirling about in his stomach. And only one year had passed.

"_Hwoarang, Hwoarang drop your stance, quickly."_

"_The fuck should I listen to you for?" _

Anger began to crawl under his skin as he continued to pale, "How do you know this?"

He saw a mutated man. Seven feet tall, or so, with rippling muscles, dark pink skin, horns and a fierce glare. He had a few chains on him – everything just _screamed _'demon' and 'transformed' and 'different' and _'Mishima'. _He who'd been bound for so long under the Earth, freed only to die in the end.

"_**Foolish mortals… Even with refuelled hope, you'll **_**still **_**fail by my mighty hand!**__"_

Zafina did nothing. She merely stood there and smirked, chuckling a little.

He remembered himself, running past the man, running through the rain and the mud and the grey; running to her to save her so that she could still fight and live and love. He remembered just how hoarse his voice had gotten when he was screaming her name to snap her out of that stupid fucking trance –

"_Razer!"_

Him, dying; her, crying. The memories he fought to bury breathed again.

"_I love you!"_

Everything else hit him in a rush after that.

As expected, Hwoarang immediately lashed out with a kick and a hiss, "How do you _know _this?"

Zafina evaded it, sliding around the strings, blocking where necessary. She even managed to get in a few attacks, causing her to grin slightly at how he was merely lashing out at her in blind rage. The very fact that he was missing so many hits and being punished for it only pushed his anger upwards, and she continued to push his buttons, recounting small details of his nightmare, recounting small details of his death, like she was there the entire time for both, like she was in his mind, walking from one memory to the other effortlessly. He, the dreamer. She, the walker.

"You were an adorable child," she suddenly remarked, weaving underneath yet another flurry of flying feet, "You really should have kept your black hair. A shame I could only see you sob and wail for your family instead of smiling and laughing, and playing with your little toy rockets."

He was shaking with such rage that he ended up punching her squarely in the nose. He could feel it shift below his fingers, and Zafina cried out, surprised and hurt, blood starting to pour from her nostrils, swelling already starting. Hwoarang was surprised – he figured she would've been able to handle more than that – and watched as she retreated, one hand to her nose, the other to her head. The hit clearly threw her off and made her dizzy. There was something in her eyes, too. Like a small acceptance.

Still angry, he carefully approached again, getting ready to throw a kick out, "Either tell me how you know this shit, or be prepared for more of a beating."

Zafina raised a hand, silently announcing her surrender. If she couldn't handle the Korean, then there was no way that she would be able to handle Jin. She could feel his anger hide for a few moments, being replaced by true confusion as her opponent was announced as the victor. She looked up at him, angry, but not blaming him. After all, it was only by chance that during her meditation she stumbled into his mind. It was clear that he was somehow connected to this.

"You have to beat him," she said suddenly.

He furrowed his eyebrows, "Pardon?"

"Jin," she hissed, "You must beat him. He and Kazuya cannot be allowed to fight. The stars _must _remain divided. They can never join… not unless you want the Beast to come out of his hiding place and make your premonition become a solid reality. And even then… There is no escaping some of the things that may happen. But no matter what happens, Hwoarang…" she narrowed her eyes at him, thereafter turning to leave, "You. Cannot. Lose."

Before she got off the stage, Hwoarang grabbed her free, thin arm. She turned her head, one hand still holding her nose and trying to keep the blood from flowing through the cracks of her fingers, and watched as he offered her a tissue from his back pocket. She snatched it up, narrowing her eyebrows, and used it to soak up the blood, feeling a little relief when the strength of his grip subsided.

His sienna eyes were full of questions – she could see that immediately. He was slowly processing something, like the dream or his thoughts, or even what to say next to her in English without making a mistake. He was clearly still haunted by the fact that she knew he'd died – she felt it and could see it in one of her premonitions last year – and he slowly, almost softly stated, "Tell me everything."


	15. Believe

Author's Note: Writer's block is kicking my ass :/

* * *

_**Chapter Fifteen: Believe **_

Hwoarang was sitting on his knees, his eyes darting around a little to take in Zafina's hotel room.

She'd obviously decorated it. There were colourful beads hanging from the ceiling, and the occasional blue lamp. The bed behind him was covered in a maroon duvet, and there was an unusual artwork sitting above it, one that was clearly from her homeland. It was very exotic and unique – definitely interesting to look at. He heard some shuffling ahead and quickly turned to look at the woman, who'd found what she was looking for.

She had a little stone holder, and a crystal orb. His face scrunched up a little – he wasn't really much of a believer of mystical shit, but if this was going to give him the answers he was looking for, then he really had no say. Zafina soon placed the holder on the ground before him, and the crystal orb afterwards. She then sat in the same position as him and looked up at him with her usual, blank and emotionless face. He inwardly winced slightly at the obvious injury to her nose.

"So, where did you acquire that rocket pendant?" she asked nonchalantly, still adjusting the orb in the holder. She'd noticed it while fighting, for it had caught the sun. It was clearly becoming old, and it was worn with pride.

"Razer bought it for me," he answered, not allowing anymore information to leave. He didn't want her to know everything. He didn't want her to know that he wore it everyday and only ever took it off once, he didn't want her to know that it was a Christmas present when they first met, he didn't want her to know that he loved rockets as a child, and so on.

"It's nice."

"Mhm."

She adjusted herself, brushing down her skirt, before running her fingertips over the orb. As it began to glow, illuminating the dark room in its light blue tint, she shifted the topic of the conversation slightly, making it a little more relevant to what she was going to do and what she was going to show the Korean, "And what do you believe in? What is your faith?"

The question threw him off. He paused for a few moments, transfixed by the little light show, before answering slowly, "Her."

"I asked you a religious question," she murmured.

"And I answered," he retorted sharply, narrowing his eyes, hands tightening a little, "I don't fucking believe in God or any of the others. I've got no religious path, because they all let me down and didn't teach me anything new. I believed in God once, and he took away my parents. I believed in Buddha's teachings, and as a result, I lost Baek. I believe in nothing holy – I believe in people. And of those people, I believe in her. I've got faith in her."

Zafina said nothing for a few moments, looking up at him, before looking back at the orb, reading what she could see, "Your tie to this woman is ridiculously strong," she ignored the eye roll, "It is practically unheard of, and even through the strain that is slowly occurring between the two of you, it does not weaken."

"No shit," he growled, "I love her. She loves me."

"There is a black star over her."

"Kazama."

She nodded a little, frowning, "Yes. It was white, once… A little weak at times, but otherwise still strong and bright. It began to shift when you and her took that vacation to Greece. By the time you both returned, that star was pitch black, almost entirely disguised in the night sky. I feel something evil about Jin Kazama, but I do not understand what it is, as such. It is akin to that of Kazuya Mishima and Jinpachi Mishima. Can you explain?"

"Devil Gene," he answered simply, before pausing, looking down, "Ohhhh…" He palmed his face, "_Now _it makes sense…"

In the two weeks that they were gone, in the two weeks that she showed him around her country, Kazama had psycho because their mentalities had shifted within his mind. Jin lost the fight – Devil emerged victorious. Jin was _gone._ That would explain why he would get angry at his presence – he played to the fear that the Hwoarang could be a threat to his malevolent plans, to the _relationship, _to everything. Devil knew that if he encouraged her to leave, she'd leave. Devil knew that if he encouraged her to derail his plans, then she would. Therefore, to keep control…

"Shit."

It was his fault. Or so he felt.

Zafina was in her own thoughts, analysing what the Devil Gene was and would be. Once the pieces were connected, she exhaled sharply, "So, you are telling me those men have the blood of a demon within?" When she saw him nod solemnly, she nodded a little more, watching the images shift. The two black stars continued to crash, like a skipping record; and below their point of contact, a purple beam shot up from the ground, and a Beast would crawl up, splitting the Earth as it did.

As the creature crawled out, blue fire faded in. She frowned, hating the images – and Hwoarang took notice, peeking at the orb, unsure if he should but unable to help his curiosity. The beast he saw was the one that ate him in the dream – and he turned away, not wanting to see it again right now, "What is that?"

"That is Azazel," she replied, the name rolling off of her tongue with ease, "I guard this beast back home in my temple. He is kept in the underground, bound by long, long chains. He walks, looking for an entry to the world above so he can rectify the saddening world for the sins that it gives. His pathway is through a devil, a black star… There used to be four. One died last year, the other morphed into a white star. All that is left are Jin and Kazuya. Should they clash…" she looked up at him, "You are the strongest man after the Mishima Family. You fought Jin Kazama to a draw in your youth, you were holding your own against him before Jinpachi interrupted the fight, you have beaten Kazuya Mishima fairly… You can stop it, just by beating one of them.

"A year long, I have seen you in my orb. This orb holds hopes, dreams and futures – you are in them so many times. Your will… is very strong. Your heart is near indestructible. Your experiences have made it harder to shatter… and you will need to hold your wall up for the coming days. Your mind might break, but your heart never will. That is hope. I sometimes see your dreams…" he furrowed his eyebrows, "Just little wisps. I saw you dream of a memory, where you and Razer were wrestling on a couch in Baek's old dojang. I saw you dream of a hope in your future, where you would hold onto her hand as her other, where you weren't forced to watch the world break around her and be unable to do anything. I saw you remember what it was like to die… and I saw your dream last night. That is why I was there.

"I cannot say how your dream initially came to pass, but I can say that humanoid demon in your dream was controlling it at one stage. How, I do not know, but that entire segment about your sanity was done by Jin's demonic form. I believe it was a warning for you – to keep away, before both you and your best friend are hurt. I just…" Zafina looked at the orb in confusion, "Now that you are here, it is acting strangely. In all my years of being an astrologist and reading this…"

"Why are you following me and Julia?" he finally inquired.

"I follow Julia because I believe she knows of what I know," she smiled a little, before frowning, "I wish to speak with her so we may share our knowledge. Knowledge is a weapon… and considering both of us know such a similar passage, for I've heard her recite it to herself… we must do just that to prepare," she looked to Hwoarang, "I follow you because there is something about you. This orb keeps pointing to you. It considers you the best option for stopping the world's destruction, like a protector, of sorts. The worse these dreams became, the stronger your image was."

"Yeah, but… I'm just a guy."

Zafina narrowed her eyebrows, "Such little confidence in yourself."

Hwoarang said nothing. He merely growled.

"Your Master has told you stories of Kazuya's undefeated streak. You are the first outside of his family to have beaten him. You are not just 'a guy', you are strong and you are determined to get what you want… You certainly apply it to the woman of your affections, no matter how afraid you are," she took her hands off of the orb, "You need to believe before you are even able to take Jin or Kazuya on once again. Until then… you are not ready. You have _nothing _to fight for. You have _nothing _to protect."

He opened his mouth to speak a name, but Zafina silenced him, accidentally echoing Lei.

"You _could_ protect her, Hwoarang. But not anymore. Not so long as she stands underneath the black star."

He waited for her to say something more, but she wouldn't. Annoyed, he quickly stood and went to find Julia for the answers.


	16. Heartless

Author's Note: Well, it's been about a month, fanbook's going nowhere fast, Uni is boring, one of my birds was killed by a rat, still got writers block, had a migraine for a week now basically, I've got assignments due, and what do I go do? Update a fic and continue to procrastinate like a boss. Thanks to those who are still around :3

* * *

_**Chapter Sixteen: Heartless**_

Heihachi was unable to stop laughing at the skinny opponent before him. His arms were folded across his bare chest, and his geta made slight noise as he rocked back and forth on the smooth, temple grounds. He exhaled sharply and then analysed the boy up and down, still chuckling, much to the dismay of the small crowd that had shown up. He gestured to him, "You? Really?"

Seong-Hada shrugged and pulled down on his dark grey gloves, "Apparently."

"But you're… just a kid."

"I'm twenty!" he growled, arms by his sides. He hated it when people did that, he absolutely hated it! He quickly added after his little outburst, raising one finger in a wagging fashion, "And I got here because I was lucky! I know I'm not that great a fighter, I know you're going to beat me incredibly easy because you're _Heihachi Mishima_; so just shut up, stop gloating and do it already!"

He rolled his eyes at the display. Why was he wasting his time? "So then surrender if you know you are going to lose."

"I'm not a quitter," he remarked, going into stance, just like his opponent, "And I am not afraid anymore."

The countdown went faster than anticipated. Immediately, Heihachi sent a right uppercut, complete with electricity, straight into SH's jaw. The impact sent the youth into the air, and he almost felt paralysed by the strike itself, let alone the electricity. A few more pokes came before he was slammed into the ground with a mighty forearm, and for a moment, he felt fear come back.

"I will not let some piece of _filth _from the streets keep me from my Zaibatsu."

* * *

Elsewhere, Razer dodged a chainsaw that popped out of her opponent's _arm._

She quickly sidestepped the coming lows – with the chainsaws – and her body _twisted and rotated _like a machine. This girl – this robot – was no part human anymore. She may've acted human, she may speak like a human in some instances and feel like it sometimes, but when she was like this, fighting… there was no compassion. There was no sympathy.

She was heartless.

Completely and utterly heartless.

Her boosters then came from behind her back. Alisa back flipped away from her opponent, before charging again and moving to the side, all in one movement, leaving Razer confused. Soon enough, she felt a slide up the side of her leg, and she growled, moving out of the way of any coming attacks. She quickly threw out her un-injured leg, causing Alisa to raise her arms and block the attack. As a result, the chainsaws slid back into her arms.

She took a moment to look at her leg. The jeans – her favourite jeans – had been cut diagonally, as well as the flesh behind it. Blood was oozing out of the wound, slipping down the clothes and onto the floor. She placed her hand over it, trying to hold it, and ducked just as Alisa released both of her arms in a rocket punch. This was an unfair fight, and dammit, it was pissing her off.

_How am I supposed to win against something that's robotic?_

And how did Hwoarang defeat Bryan Fury twice during the 3rd and 4th Tournaments? Angel questioned.

She bit her lip when she realised she couldn't remember.

* * *

How he had managed to get Heihachi Mishima and get his arm into a lock was beyond Seong-Hada. He pulled and felt a joint pop, and also heard the man growl in frustration, before finding enough strength to throw the youth off. Both men skittered to their feet and returned to their fighting stances – of course, after the Mishima put his shoulder back into place on his own, and relatively quickly.

Shaking his hand to gain feeling again, Heihachi lumbered forward and slammed both of his palms into the boy's chest – the attack was blocked and quickly countered with one low kick, and one mid kick. He then ducked under a square right kick and chipped his foot against the unguarded ankle. Growling, the elder male stumbled back before bringing one arm up and hammering it down onto his back. He buckled, as expected, and then he brought down the other arm, causing him to fall to his knees.

Before he could bring his heel down, though, Seong-Hada sidestepped and then launched himself into three, quick airborne kicks, causing Heihachi to go into the air. He dashed forward and jabbed him a few times, before conducting Hunting Heel; and he couldn't help but smile a little when he heard the man grunt in annoyance and pain once again as he stood and squared his shoulders, spitting blood out of his mouth.

Tentatively, SH inched closer and threw out a punch. It was immediately caught, and, in response, he copped an elbow to the side of the head.

* * *

She rolled underneath another coming chainsaw slice, end, whilst still sprawled on the ground, she whipped her feet across Alisa's own, causing her to fall to the ground and causing her chains to retract. Pushing herself back onto her feet, Razer quickly delivered a heel kick to the robot's neck, watching as, by consequence, the head came off. She skittered back just as she picked up the head and threw it at her – and it missed, but behind her in the crowd, it exploded, just as a new one grew on her neck.

As the screams in the crowd behind her took their course, the Greek glared at Jin, who was standing on the other side, smirking and pleased with what had occurred. His arms were folded across his broad chest, and he was tapping his fingers. Beside him, Hwoarang's hands were stuffed deep into his pockets, and he was silently seething, using all of his self control to resist hitting the man and go 'what the fuck is wrong with you'.

A punch caused her to focus again. Jin withdrew his pager and read what was upon it, before smirking darkly and placing it in his pocket. Folding his arms again, he spoke to the Korean, "Your friend was just eliminated. An elbow to the temple. He barely lasted against my Grandfather."

"That's to be expected," he hissed.

"It is pathetic," he huffed heartlessly.

"He's not a fighter. He tried his luck, he got far. That's all he ever asked of himself."

"It is still pathetic."

Hwoarang turned to face him wholly, now gripping the pockets of his jeans. When Jin looked back, he bit out in a very controlled voice, "What the hell happened to you, Kazama? This isn't you. Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Jin's smirk did not change, "I am your Master."

Disgusted, the Korean turned and left, "You do not have supremacy over me."

"But I will soon," he called over his shoulder, watching as Razer seized one of the robot's arms and tore it from its socket.

In possession of this random item, she further managed to snap it in half and throw the hand part away, listening to it skitter to the edge of the arena, and, using the half she had, stabbed Alisa in the stomach. The jagged teeth of the metal arm ripped through, and she quickly pulled it back out afterwards, watching Alisa's expression morph from one of focus into one of sadness. With the arm she still had, she ripped the weapon from the Greek's grip and threw it aside also, before looking down on herself as wires spilled from the open wound.

Her breathing became ragged, emulating that of a human dying. Alisa looked back up at Razer, still frowning, and stated, "Systems shutting down."

And then she collapsed, lifeless again, like the robot she always was, and always would be.

"Number thirty-six, Razer Athane, proceeds to the fourth round," the announcer declared.

There were a few murmurs from the crowd as she limped off of the stage, still holding onto the cut on her leg. She viciously pushed past Jin, who had come to congratulate her, and made her way to the hospital. She knew this would be bandaged for a while, and she also knew that this would be a new weak point for him to target.

Before long, she was picked up by the Japanese man. Deciding not to fight it, for she was far too tired, she tentatively rested her head on his shoulder, still pressing her hand against it, and growled whilst glaring at him, "I was unaware that you entered your pink-haired robot."

"It is clear that she still needs improvement," he replied monotonously.

"_Improvement? _That thing can kill anything you want it to kill."

He drawled, "Judging by today's display… obviously not."

Chills ate her body alive.


	17. Killing Lights

Author's Note: If sousy still reads this, ITS THAT McTIME.

* * *

_**Chapter Seventeen: Killing Lights **_

Lars Alexandersson looked to his accomplice as Razer and Hwoarang waited in line at a McDonalds in Harajuku. His arms were folded across his chest – both he and his accomplice were in their Tekken Force uniform. The other man was speaking to him in Japanese, his voice a deep but comforting and friendly baritone, despite what he was actually saying, "**You got your ass handed to you by Kazuya.**"

He shoved him, responding in the same language, "**Shut up, Tougou.**"

Tougou, his second-in-command, smiled fondly. He'd known Tougou for years, and despite numerous missions, vicious growls and overall occasional silliness, they were still best friends. He was off today, but Lars requested that he join both him and the other two for a wander around the mall. He could use the extra backup, firstly, and secondly, he thought that he needed a well-deserved rest, if only for a day, and despite whatever Jin said, "**No, seriously. You did. I wasn't all too surprised, because you did put up a great fight, but that knee to the back of the head…**"

"**Don't remind me. At least I didn't get my arm broken by Julia Chang, like Lee Chaolan did.**"

"**This is true.**"

His blue eyes wandered from the other man and to the crowd, keeping a sharp lookout for any G-Corporation soldiers. They'd been popping up more as of late, particularly targeting Razer, which was expected. Jin ordered Lars to tighten his surveillance of the woman, to the point where she wasn't allowed to go to the mall without supervision. There were some other soldiers around, but Lars had sent them away, confident that both he and Tougou, and also Hwoarang were enough to look after her should trouble arise.

A drink was suddenly shoved against his chest. He looked to the origin of it and found it was Razer, who was sipping on lemonade. He took the drink and looked back at it, reading the writing on it and thereafter realising it was the drink he had asked for her to grab him when they were in line, "Here is your McFlurry."

He nodded a little, smiling gratefully. Lifting it up a little in appreciation, he spoke, thereafter taking a long sip of it, "Thanks."

Tougou looked amongst the three of them, narrowing his eyes a little at the obnoxious slurping, even as he was given his own McFlurry from Hwoarang. He cleared his throat, causing all three to look at him, before straightening up and jutting out his chin, "Well, now what are we going to do?"

Hwoarang piped up, "Do you guys mind if I duck in to the FOTUS store? Just wanna check around for some new shirts."

Lars nodded and smiled, "We'll all go."

And so, they began to walk from the food court to the clothing section, all sipping on their respective drinks. The Korean finished his drink first, placing it in a nearby pot plant, bored and not willing to find a bin. He grumbled something about 'wanting another coke' under his breath, to which the second-in-command chuckled, replying swiftly and sipping his drink, "Then you shouldn't have drunk it so quickly. Look at those two, they are still drinking it."

He shrugged, "I could just buy another one later on."

They soon arrived, all entering as a group. Many people took notice of their entry, and Tougou noted their varied reactions. Hwoarang would give a little attention when called upon – he'd give a one worded answer to a question, perhaps sign this for some kid, but otherwise, he generally tried to keep away from the loud noise and the gradually killing lights. He clearly just wanted a goddamn shirt or two, and as he raked through the racks and pulled a few out, putting them over his body in curiosity, he was even asked what size shirt he was. The attention was agitating him over time.

Razer seemed to avoid as much of it as she could, sticking close to Hwoarang and commenting on whatever shirt he pulled out. One of her hands was stuffed deep into a pocket of her brown coat, which was zipped up all the way, and the other was tightly holding onto her drink, occasionally coming closer to her mouth for a small sip. She ignored anyone or anything that came her way, except for one instant where she was berated for not stopping Jin for the things he'd done so far. The comment, though, obviously struck a chord – it was here that Tougou assumed that she'd tried and failed every time.

Lars, however, soaked up all the attention, signing this, posing for that, and so on and so forth. He loved it, as though he were a cat and he was being petted continuously for killing that nasty mouse. At the moment, he had lifted up a young girl onto his shoulders, and was smiling with her as her Father snapped the photo, bowed respectfully, and commented on how unfortunate it was that he lost yesterday, but how good a fight he put up.

Soon, the camera flashes increased in amount. More and more people were coming from other stores, realising that they were here – the two male participants were gathering a platoon of female fans, all fanatic and excited. Realising it was time to leave, Tougou flashed a look at Lars, who motioned for Razer and Hwoarang to exit after the latter was done paying for the items. Just as they slid through the exit, though, there was trouble – G-Corp was about, and all weapons were aiming at the four, even as those in the store screamed and hid.

"Well isn't this just _lovely,_" Lars deadpanned.

The leader of the opposing forces pointed at him, "Lars Alexandersson, relinquish her."

He blinked, bored, and he could hear the movements behind him, as Hwoarang moving in front of the aforementioned person and of Tougou moving behind her. He lazily took another sip of his drink, complete with a happy sigh – God he loved this drink so, so much – and merely stared at the opponent as though he had two heads and five eyes, "No."

Agitated by this defiance, the leader raised his handgun and released a shot, causing all four of them to freeze.

His eyebrows furrowed and his lips curved into a despairing frown as liquid poured from his drink. Lars watched as it slid down and out of the bullet hole, massing into a puddle on a ground before his feet. He turned his head up a little, glaring at the man with the gun whilst tightening his grip on the destroyed cup, dropping it thereafter, "You McFucked up my McFlurry!"

In immediate retaliation, Lars swooped towards him and conducted Blue Bolt, watching with frustration as the leader bounced off of the ground for a few moments, only to eat a face full of flip kicks. He then turned, slamming the back of his electrified fist into another soldier, who'd been aiming at him, before throwing out a kick at someone before him.

He grabbed his cellphone, avoided numerous bullets as both Razer and Hwoarang moved to escape, and called in the rest of his forces from their various places in the mall, "**This is Alpha Leader. G-Corporation has entered the vicinity and is attacking in an attempt to capture one Razer Athane. Romeo Leader is also present, but we cannot hold them off for too long. Proceed to the FOTUS clothing store immediately!**"

Transitioning into Dynamic Entry, he threw out his left fist and then his right. Behind him, he heard Tougou draw his sword and take a stab at several soldiers. Elsewhere, he heard in a swarm of his own Tekken Force soldiers, their feet clicking over the marble floors, and many shouts echoing through the vicinity. He side stepped another coming attack, before throwing out both of his arms – an attack known as Zeus – and grabbed the one beside the opponent, striking him several times with his arms, before finishing off with a high kick.

"**Stand down!**" one of his own men hissed, and Lars looked to see all of them pointing guns at G-Corporation's soldiers.

He watched as the opposition reluctantly put their hands up and their guns down. Soon enough, some of the Tekken Force swooped in and began to arrest them, or kill them if they met resistance. He wiped sweat from his forehead, before turning to see Tougou sheath his sword and take a sip of his McFlurry. He narrowed his eyebrows, annoyed that his second-in-command still had a drink.

Tougou sensed this, and, flashing him a quick smile before assuming control of the operation so Lars could return to his former duties, he said, "My McFlurry, on the other hand, is McFantastic."

* * *

When Lars arrived at the Mishima Mansion, he was out of breath. He ran the whole way, and once he was granted entry, he quickly looked around for his friends. He saw them sitting on the couch, just leaning forward, their forearms on their thighs, staring into nothingness. He felt an unresolved tension in the room, and he chose to just stand in the corridor for now, the ceiling light blinding him.

And then, there's a single, male chuckle, "Remember when you got chased in the first two tournaments?"

Another small chuckle – but this time, it was feminine, "Yes."

Hwoarang turned to look at her and lightly pinched her cheek, "Little Miss Popular."

She smiled at him before looking at him up and down, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. And you?"

"I'm alright."

There was silence again, and before long, Lars decided to enter, saluting stiffly, and then dropped the formal mask, "You two okay?"

"Yes," the answered synonymously.

"Excellent."

Soon enough, the Korean stood and ran his fingers through his hair, "I suppose I should leave. If you guys need me or something, you know where I'll be."

They both watched him go in silence. Lars looked to Razer, who was staring at where he'd been sitting previously. He came and sat next to her, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. The fact that he suddenly filled her vision had her snap out of her gazing; and he looked down his nose at her, "I don't mean to pry, but is something going on between you two?"

She shook her head, "No."

He clicked his tongue before asking again, "What are you hiding from him?"

She rubbed her temples – the lights were disturbing her, "Nothing."

"You're not yourself."

"Lars," she hissed, "Just shut up, okay?"

He quirked an eyebrow at this outburst, before shrugging a little and turning on the television.

You cannot hide from him forever.


	18. These Years

Author's Note: Posting this now rather than later because I'm going to be going through a lot of stress in the next week or two. I turn 21 in less than a week and my family's just been all up in arms about it ("WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR 21ST", when I actually want nothing because I'm rather happy), and there's a lot of other issues etc, so, yeah. Better to post it now than later. There is a familiar face here for you guys, too :)

* * *

_**Chapter Eighteen: These Years**_

_HURRICANE_

_We bring you a small update about two Iron Fist participants, whose relationship is being put to the limits because of the Tyrant and his horrors. The above photograph was taken when they were grabbing some drinks from a local McDonalds branch – they appeared quite happy, or rather, as happy as they could be in times like these. They soon met up with Lars Alexandersson, head of Tekken Force (who we assume was appointed to guard her during this outing), and another, unnamed soldier. _

_The second photo on the left hand side of this text shows the pair in FOTUS clothing store – a visual kei line supported by people such as rock star Miyavi. They were generally the same, emotionally, as in the image above. Things began to change as more and more fans poured in, as more and more paparazzi entered, and then eventually, G-Corporation's forces entered the vicinity in an attempt to capture Razer Athane, most likely to use her bait one Jin Kazama out of the Gargoyle's Perch. The pair escaped as Alexandersson and the other soldier phoned in for backup. The third photo on the bottom right shows them as they run. Neither appeared to be harmed._

_The writer of this article, who is unnamed, is a media reporter for one of the major networks. He followed them around for a while, taking the occasional snapshot – and he was shocked to find that even in a mall could neither find solace with one another. They seemed okay being in the company of those two soldiers, but all too soon were they disturbed by the aforementioned. They cannot find peace within the world hurricane – but who can in this world? What's next in these next years? Really?_

Jin folded the newspaper and switched off the lamp on his office desk. He placed the item atop the other stack of newspapers he'd been gathering as of late, before pushing himself away from the desk and eventually off of the wheelie chair. As he stood and turned to head off to the kitchen, he could hear the aforementioned furniture squeakily spin. He was then out of the room, door shut behind him, and he could see a faint, glimmering glow in the kitchen, the only source of light in his shadowy home.

* * *

He was sitting on the stairs, looking onto the electric fountain when he saw someone familiar pass through. Hwoarang thought for a few moments that he might've been imagining things. He squinted again, but a large, blue jet of light covered the being entirely, and he was then certain that he'd been hallucinating. He shrugged lightly to himself and leant against the wall behind him again, playing with his phone and tapping his leg.

But when that person was standing beside him, having ascended all of those stairs just to be next to him, he knew that it was no phantasm, even though all he could see was his white shoe and the bottom of a plastic bag. Here he was, standing beside him, after all of these years… Hwoarang wordlessly moved aside as the person sat down, and slid his phone into his pocket. He then placed both hands on his knee, resting them there idly. The person beside him was sitting cross-legged, with the bag beside him and his hands resting in his lap.

"**You haven't changed,**" the familiar face chuckled.

"**Neither have you. Same dumb haircut, same stupid beanie**."

"**Hey! I resent that!**"

He grabbed the older man and put him in a headlock, thereafter rubbing his knuckles on the top of his head repeatedly. It was when he copped an elbow to the gut did he finally let go, smiling and laughing at how the man took off his beanie, smoothed out his hair again, and then viciously pulled the maroon item down onto his head, feigning an annoyed glare at the fighter, "**Changmin.**"

Changmin smiled, patting Hwoarang on the shoulder lightly, "**Hello, my old friend.**"

"**Hey.**"

Friends since childhood, same school… They parted, but not by choice. Seven years ago when Baek's dojang went up in flames, the Blood Talon had been far too distraught with Razer to even think about Changmin or his cousin for a housing option, and they were sent straight to the orphanage. When he _did _think about them, he'd long since destroyed his cellphone and was about to run away with her. They only sparked in his mind on occasion afterwards, and it was only an 'I wonder how they are'. He saw them again, three years ago, but only in passing, only to check up on them.

And that was the first thing that Changmin mentioned after the brief greeting. He sighed and then frowned as he opened his mouth, "**We saw you on that day… On the motorbike, with Razer behind you. And as we ran towards you, you sped away. Why'd you go? You **_**do **_**know how long we'd been waiting for you… right? You know how much we missed you and how badly we thought you'd both died when the dojang was annihilated?**"

He was staring out towards the fountain again, seeing Steve with Christie and _Anna, _of all people (but then again, if he thought about it, it made sense, as though they were trying to build a family relationship) window shopping. He exhaled shakily, trying to find the right words – and he still spoke in Korean, because he didn't want any random, hiding reporter to get this out, "**We just wanted to check up on you. We figured you'd both be better without us around that time, because we were in a street gang. Didn't want you guys to get involved and shit, you know?**" He scratched the back of his head, "**I'm really sorry.**"

"**But you could've called us.**"

"**You know me, I'm shit at remembering numbers. I smashed my cellphone, which had both of your numbers in it, in a fit of rage in the orphanage. Was a stupid mistake, because I'm sure your parents would've let us stay for a little while. Instead, all of that other bullshit happened, which I'll probably tell you about another time.**"

"**You'd better,**" he wagged his finger, "**We need to catch up on the last few years. I get that they were probably pretty painful for the pair of you, so I'll give you some time, but still, you need to spill the beans…**" he rested his head against the wall, "**You'll… not disappear again, will you?**"

He smiled, "**No. I've no reason to run anymore. I would've gone looking for you and Shin, but I had no idea where to start, and there were a lot of other things I had to do too,**" He too rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes and facing away from his old friend, whose cheeks were still as chubby as ever, "**So tell me, what's been going on with you guys? What're you guys doing in Japan?**"

"**Me? Well, I'm actually working now. I finished University and the came here because there's more job opportunities and such in my field – I'm a lab assistant for a tiny company. According to some of the others, I'll be a fully fledged scientist soon,**" he sighed happily and stretched, "**Isn't that great? I'm twenty-three, and I've almost accomplished my life goal… Oh and guess what else?**"

"**What?**"

He cleared his throat and then promptly shocked the Blood Talon beyond belief, "I know English now. Fluently."

His eyes were open and looking at his friend, "Holy shit! You do too! No need to get Shin to translate back and forth for you, huh?"

"Yes," he smiled, head tilting to the side a little, "I'm still a bit slow when listening, but I understand now and can communicate efficiently."

"And the accent's not as heavy as Shin's. You almost sound like me."

"Well, I tried really, really hard," he shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his forehead, "I felt bad for many years for not being able to speak to or get to know Razer properly because of the language barrier, so I thought I'd make an extra special effort to learn the language. And face it, it's the second language of the world. If a Mexcian wants to talk to a Cambodian, they'll do it in English. It's something I needed to learn. It's how I communicate with my co-workers. I'm thinking about learning Japanese next though, just in case."

He nodded, "It'd definitely help. **But let's go back to Korean for a little while. We don't know who could be listening here. It's better to speak this way so that no unwanted information's leaked and shit. What's Shin been up to?**"

"**He's just looking for a job at the moment seeing as he lost his job as a receptionist about two months ago. The place was bombed by Jin. Fortunately he wasn't there but, the event's clearly shaken him up. So for now, he just lives with me as usual, looks after the apartment, and hides from his creepy ex-boyfriend. The usual, really.**"

"**I assume you're teasing him like he used to tease you. Was she hot?**"

"**Uh, no, I'm quite serious. Shin's gay. Always has been. It's just now he's quite happy to admit it.**"

The new knowledge floored him, "**…Seriously?**"

"**Yeah. He had a small crush on you around the time Razer came around. That's why he was always commenting on your body – both in seriousness and in humour. He knew you were straight, but he thought maybe that way he'd be able to tell you that he's gay. I've known for a while. His parents pretty much threw him out when they found out a year after you disappeared, so he's been living with me ever since. But uh, yeah. We now basically live together, and we've got another roommate. A Japanese girl named Izumi – she repairs motorbikes and has quite the mouth on her. Could easily challenge you with your swearing.**"

"…**I never, **_**never **_**would've known.**"

He grinned, "**I know, I know. But anyway, what's been happening with you two? Behind closed doors, obviously. As in, out of the eye of the media.**"

"**Razer's just been in the Mansion while Jin worked. I've got a job as a checkout boy. Baek's been training some new students.**"

"**Oh, yeah!**" He tugged a little at his beanie, "**You should've seen me and Shin flip out when we saw him on TV for the Fifth Tournament. Like, we were over the moon and rooting for you and Razer the whole way when we saw you for the first time in the Third Tournament; but seeing **_**Baek, **_**who was supposed to be **_**dead, **_**was an absolute kick in the balls.**"

"**Yeah, it was a major kick in the balls to me too when I found him in the army,**" he paused for a moment, reminiscing on that day, before continuing on, "**Oh, and then there's Seong-Hada. He's become a chef, and he's so goddamn happy about it. I've never seen the kid smile so much in my life.**"

"**Seong-Hada…? Who is that?**"

He palmed his face lightly, "**Ah, sorry. He's a friend of ours. He's the guy with the blue hair that was recently eliminated. He was the first one that we brought into our gang. They were all killed between the Fourth and Fifth Tournaments, but he survived thanks to Razer and Steve Fox. So he's basically like our little brother,**" His face lit up at the sudden realisation that he could have _all _of his friends together, "**I have **_**got **_**to introduce you guys to him! He's a bit shy, but, yeah. I know you'll all get along. He'll clash with Shin for a while though because he's such a neat freak, where as Shin is an absolute **_**slob.**_"

"**Sounds goo – Excuse me,**" His phone was vibrating. Noting who it was, Changmin quickly shoved it into Hwoarang's hands, grinning widely, "**Answer it.**"

He pressed the little green button and was immediately met with Shin's obviously flustered voice, "**Look, Changmin, all I asked of you was to get some bread and cheese and red capsicum. It does **_**not **_**take that long to grab three measly items from the supermarket, walk back here, climb up the stairs, and then enter the goddamn apartment. What's taking you so long?**"

"**Sheesh Shin, you certainly haven't changed either. Your temper's still hot enough to cook a fuckin' marshmallow.**"

He had to pull the phone away from his ear, because a very loud 'Oh my fucking God, Hwoarang!' almost deafened him.

Yeah. He definitely missed this.


	19. The Open Door

Author's Note; Two weeks until _"Tekken: Mono"_, a fanbook I'm producing with eight, exclusive, never-before-seen Tekken oneshots, is released. Am I freaking the fuck out? YOU BET YOUR SWEET ASS I AM! Am I procrastinating like a motherfucker? YEAH SO WHAT AGH FUCK I NEED TO WORK. I digress though, if you're interested, please send me a PM. Without further ado, here's another chapter.

* * *

_**Chapter Nineteen: The Open Door**_

_I'm in a room with three open doors._

_The one on the far left's partially open, like its taunting me, daring me to try and open it and go and see. There's blue candles on the other side – and those candles remind me of a certain other nightmare that I had. One that I don't want to go back to. So, there's no way that I'm choosing that door right now. I'm gonna avoid that door at all costs. My answer – or reason for being in this stupid dream state again – is not there._

_The one on the far right is half open. I can see bits and pieces of Baek's dojang, and it makes me smile a little. That looks a lot safer – but when I look straight ahead of myself to the final door, which is wide open, it's exactly the same, and I'm entirely confused. Three doors, but two with identical scenes? Isn't that wrong? These dreams, aren't they supposed to have different scenarios? What is this shit?_

_Shrugging, I pick the middle door. It looks safe enough, particularly as I can see down it with no issue. I don't even have to move towards it – _it _moves towards _me, _like the ground I'm standing on is some giant escalator or treadmill. Some giant, marble treadmill, with a bug here and there – all of which is seeping from the door on the far left. The memories make my throat constrict. Reeeally don't wanna fucking go in there._

_The other two doors have faded entirely, and I'm now standing in the middle of Baek's dojang. My hands are in my pockets, and after quickly looking around, I realise that this is actually the old dojang instead of the new one. There's a golden dao decoration hovering to my left, where it used to rest in the giant, middle corridor. On my right, there's a small series of midnight paintings. Ahead of me is the living area – top left is the kitchen, top right is the couch and the TV, and right in front of me is the back door._

_I'm then in the backyard, watching a younger version of myself kick a soccer ball around with Razer – and the Razer that I know today in the black jeans and the light blue, long-sleeved shirt is standing opposite me, watching too. She looks up at me, surprised to see me there too, and smiles a little, waving a bit. I wave back, hiding my confusion as to why she's in my dream like this too, but I don't mind. It's always nice to see her._

_We're then back in the main room, and the younger me's sobbing, but it's on the tail end of it. It's when I told her how my parents died. The adult Razer comes and stands by my side in silent support, but she says and does nothing, even as the scene shifts and the younger versions of us are tickling each other and then hugging and then they're gone. They're behind us now. They're kissing. They're happy – something we're not today._

_And then they vanish too, fading and driven apart due to a greater force. The actual image itself is cut in the middle by a black claw. Then the dojang's up in flames, and Devil Jin's where the younger versions of us were standing. He's sitting on what used to be the stool, arms folded across his chest. The entire scene melts around us, and he's glaring directly at me, red eyes glittering with amusement, Your past._

_The adult Razer's missing, but I can hear her calling my name, looking around for me somewhere in this labyrinth. The middle door's sealed shut, and there are chains in front of it, preventing me from going back in this dream right now. Already knowing that the right door's got the better option, I turn and face it, and again it comes zooming towards me. This dojang's the current one._

_She's there again, standing directly opposite me, just glaring at the scene in front of her, but it's like she's looking at something… different. What I can see is me in this day and age on the ground of my current bedroom – which is a catastrophe for some reason – with my back pressed up against the bed, my forehead resting on my knees, and I'm neither screaming or crying. I'm there, but I'm not really there. Seeing myself like that's kinda creepy, to be honest._

_Razer's shaking her head. She's clearly seeing something different to me. I rush over to her side and then turn around, noting how it's like I've stepped into an entirely different dream. I'm not in my bedroom anymore. I'm in the guest-room-that's-been-designated-as-mine in the mansion, looking at her and how she's in exactly the same position as I was in. There's new bruises. They're fresh._

_There's a rustling to our right. The two of us that are watching look to the origin and find its Miyako entering the complex with a box of tissues, a glass of water and some chocolate. She's sitting beside Razer now, dropping the box of tissues in front of her feet and offering the two other substances to her in an attempt to please her or at least have her lift her head. They're unsuccessful._

_And then a shadow casts over the entire area. We all look to the new person who hisses at Miyako to take those things and leave, which she does. The onlooking Razer, whose to my left, moves closer towards me – and I can feel her body press up against mine – she's clearly terrified with what could go on next. I do nothing – she knows I'm here for her. I'm her pillar, just as she is mine. The new person – Kazama – can't hurt her here, even as he sits on the edge of the bed with a pleased smirk; and then he turns his head and he's all demonic again as the vision rips apart before us, Your near present._

_I'm in the main room again, and the door I'd been looking at previously is closed and shackled shut. This time, Razer's with me, just staring into space. I look down on her for a few moments before nudging her with an elbow, watching as she turns and looks at me worriedly. I smile a little, "There's nothing to be worried about. It's just a dream. We'll wake up soon."_

_I hope._

_She nods a little, squeaks out an 'okay', and takes my hand, and I ignore how my heart skips a beat like it always does. She looks to the last door, which has since creaked all the way open without notice, and turns to face it wholly. I'm initially resistant, because I know what lies back there, but she squeezes my right hand in silent support, murmurs that I shouldn't be scared; and I cave in, swallowing and awaiting Azazel and his creepy, insect-infested cave._

_The door zooms in and we're in that area again. I jerk when I see Azazel lording over both of us – but this Razer's not in chains, like the other one was. I'm standing instead of kneeling, too, but I'm still one hundred percent motionless. Azazel's roaring and screaming, and he's tilting his head back as though he's charging something. She's running to me, she's saying something about how she refuses to let this happen again – and then she's in my arms, and the room's filled with a beam of white and red light heading towards us –_

_The scene's bisected by the white, blinding the rest of it so neither of us can see what's happening now. Devil Jin walks out of the white and stands directly in front of us, looking at us directly in the eyes. We instinctively group closer together, because that's how we've always been – and he grabs our hands and rips them apart, his claws digging into and cutting our skin. He smirks, glaring daggers at me, Your future._

_Everything's black. She's gone. My hand's burning._

_That is your last warning._

Hwoarang woke again, shaking, and quickly looked to his right, where she'd been during the dream. He was crestfallen to realise she wasn't there. He groaned in annoyance and rolled over onto his stomach, noting in passing how the clock bared 03:45. He was feeling sick again, sick at the images and worried about what was going to happen next. His cellphone vibrated for a few moments beside the digital clock, and without lifting his head, he felt around to his right and grabbed it, thereafter turning his head and looking at the message that was just sent from the Greek.

'_electric fountain… meet me there soon.'_

It was when the cellphone's screen illuminated his right hand did he realise that his hand was profusely bleeding from claw marks.

Elsewhere, Zafina's orb stopped glowing.


	20. Storm To Pass

Author's Note: Thanks so much for your interest in Tekken: Mono, guys :3

Also what do you guys think about this – I got judge's choice in the fanfic comp I recently entered (with my Kingdom Hearts entry "Pathway"), but on the winner's card… it still had my name on it. Crossed out. Do you think they did that because "lol we are of anime minds, everybody should have a chance to win, you won last year", or some other reason? I mean I have a different mentality to that, I'm a gamer. I play, or enter, to win. And its like in Tekken tournaments I've participated in/watched, even if that same person wins the tournament EVERY TIME, that just showcases the skill of the player. So if I _initially _won then… I dunno. I'm just in an odd head space about this.

Anyway. You Razerang supporters out there will like this chapter quite a bit. Cheers!

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty: Storm To Pass**_

Are you alright?

Razer shook her head vehemently at the stupid question proposed to her by Angel. No, she wasn't okay. Of course not. Firstly, it was absolutely freezing right now at four in the morning. It was snowing lightly, she'd been entirely rugged up, and she was trembling like she was in an earthquake. She was very tired and worried, and she didn't like how things seemed to be as of late. She felt queasy. Her left hand was hurting like a bitch. Everything just wasn't right at the moment.

I am shaken up too. Please don't think you're alone in feeling what you are feeling.

She thanked the bus driver – yes, she decided to take a bus instead of a limo – paid him a little extra for speeding to the location, and then hopped off, watching the vehicle go off to its next stop. She looked at the shops, noting how they were all empty, but all of the neon lights were still shining into her eyes. She turned away, hearing the water sprout up and hiss behind her. The front of her clothes and her face were lightly tinted blue from below as the snow dropped from the sky; and up ahead, Hwoarang stood with his hands in his pockets, lightly bathed in a blue light that inadvertently made her breath catch.

She exhaled, watching the frosty breath billow out, and quickly power-walked to his location in the middle of the fountain. The water tickled her face lightly, leaving a stinging chill - and for a moment she wondered why they never turned this fountain off, even in the dead of night. As she moved, she watched as the Korean turned away, heading towards stairs at the other side of the area, where he obviously wanted to be. She continued to walk and walk and walk, until she was standing right beside him – the only place she really ever felt safe and herself anymore.

"You were there. You dreamed it too," Razer stated, looking up at him. He nodded, looking at her.

A shared dream, Angel mused, opening her thoughts to both, A final warning from Jin.

Hwoarang took his right hand out of his pocket and fished her left one out too. He roughly pulled up her sleeve and peeled off the black glove – and low and behold, she had the cuts as well. He quickly did the same thing to his own hand, showing her that it wasn't just her who suffered like that, before looking at her square in the eyes again. He didn't need to speak. He never did.

She looked at his hand, noting how it was shaking from the cold and how the blood, though dry, was still caked on the areas that Devil Jin had grabbed – or rather, grabbed in the dream. She'd taken a bit of time to clean her blood off, but the initial wounds were still evident. She reached out and lightly touched his fingers, and a feeling of nostalgia swallowed her whole as he touched back and eventually moved to hold her hand again, like old times.

There was silence and closing eyes when he brought the hand up to his lips and lightly kissed near the wounds and then each of her fingers; and then he was just holding her hand against his face because he missed her so much. She smiled a little, eyes open again, and stroked his cheek with her thumb, which caused him to open his eyes and look at her. For the first time since their meeting, he spoke, uncertain, desperate and afraid, "Don't leave me."

"I won't. I couldn't."

He nodded a little, placed another soft kiss to the inside of her wrist before letting go of her hand, covering it up with her glove and jacket sleeve once again. He did the same to himself and jammed his hand in his pocket, looking to his feet thereafter for a few seconds, feeling weak. It took him several moments to speak again, now that his innermost thoughts were forcibly choked out, "Why's he doing this? What do you think he wants?"

"I do not know, and it is a shame, because I should have _some_sort of knowledge… yet I know nothing. I just know he's not Jin anymore, and he hasn't been for a very long time," Razer sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, watching as he looked up at her, "All I know is I'm sick of this, like so many others. I'm sick of him, I'm sick of how he looks at me, I'm sick of how he speaks of you with such anger, I'm sick of this war, I'm sick of feeling inferior and weak and like a child whenever I'm around him, and I am so fucking sick of being alone."

"But you're not alone. You have me. You _always_have me. Even when the world tells me to just give up… I'll be here."

"You say that so much, but I don't feel it anymore."

"Maybe if you stopped pushing me away, for whatever fucked up reason, you'd feel it again, like you did when Angel was corrupt. I might not have had the gene myself, but you knew I was there for every moment. I'm still here for every moment. It doesn't matter how bad it might get or what the hell happens, but I'm not leaving your side. You know this. I've said it for years now."

He grabbed her again and lightly ran his fingers over a bruise he could see on her neck. She retreated.

"I wish you'd remember."

"It is hard to remember when you've fought for the last few months to forget other things."

She turned to face the stairs, taking a seat on the concrete edge. She looked to the black, marble ground ripping the speckles of white apart, idly running her fingers over it in a feeble attempt to keep her mind distracted and to try and reconstruct her thoughts. The Korean watched her for a few moments before finally speaking again, "How long's it been?" He didn't move when she shot a glare at him, "Since he started hitting you."

"About six months."

"And you didn't _once _think of coming to me."

She gripped the stair's edge, and Hwoarang recognised an old feral tone in her voice, "Are you insane? Of course I did. I still do. But you can't fucking do anything anymore Hwoarang, no matter how much either of us would like you to. Jin's in control. Until someone fucking kills him or until Devil's overthrown, we can't do shit. Nobody can. That is how life works now, and that is how we have to cope. We have to suck it up and deal with it."

"You still should've said something."

"And for what?" she huffed, "Come to you like a little girl that needs to be saved from the big, bad monster? What is after that? You go to the police? Perhaps to Wulong? He can take it as high as he can, but in the end it will all come to Jin, and Jin will dismiss the claims. Things will be exactly the same. It is pointless to even try going down that route. So all you have to do is keep your head down, your mouth shut and wait for the cloudy storm to pass."

"You still should've told me!" he hissed, "Sure, I might've done those things, I might've snapped and hit Kazama across the face – but I'm here to be _spoken _to as well, you know! You could've let it all out instead of keep it inside and let it eat you alive. Memories, old and new, don't have to be carried by yourself – you did that for six years after meeting me, and I still don't know shit about what happened around that time with your own family! Just a few wisps of knowledge, and now you tell me that your life's repeating itself and you think its _okay?_"

"_I know _it's not okay!"

"Then _do something _about it!"

"I _can't _do anything!"

Hwoarang swiftly approached her, "You're not a fucking child anymore, Razer! You've got a _choice _now. You couldn't leave back then because of your Mother, and even if you did, you really had nowhere to go until that fucked up night. You might not have been given the choice when you were twelve, but fuck, _you have _the choice now, and you are _not_making the right one for yourself!"

Her voice was increasing in volume, "I'm not _making _this decision for myself, Hwoarang! I'm not sitting here and tolerating these beatings and verbal hisses and doing everything he fucking says because _I like_doing it! I don't fucking care about my safety – _I'm doing it _for _you!_" She gestured to her body, referring to the wounds, "_All of this _is so you live! All of this is so you can breathe…

"I have held my tongue for your safety and protection, because I do _not _want you to die again. The first time he hit me, the first time I got up off of the floor with a busted lip and trembling hands, I reached for that fucking phone to dial _your _fucking number to tell you so you _knew! _And then," she began imitating his actions, "he tore the phone from my hand and broke it, and he said to me 'unless you want your beloved brother to die, then I advise you keep this and what is to come to yourself'. That is what he said to me! I already lost you once, Hwoarang! I can't lose you again! I don't… I don't _want _to live in a world without you in it."

His hand was in his hair, scratching his head and moving the snow specks from his red locks. He looked down, entirely unsure of what to say or do. The wind picked up for a few moments before gently relaxing again, causing the cold bite to hurt a little less. His hands soon found their way into his pockets, gripping the sewn edges, and he wasn't sure if he felt this bad inside before, aside from the time he worked out she'd been going out with Kazama.

She was leaning forward, running her hands up the side of her face and through her hair, unaware of her trembling hands. One of her hands eventually ended up on her forehead, whilst the other merely dangled off of her legs. She didn't want to make it sound like she was blaming him, because that wasn't her intention at all – it was just the truth, plain and simple. She wasn't sure if she did the right thing in telling him, because she knew that somehow, Jin would probably find out, even if this was the safest time to speak of it. He'd just know.

The Greek didn't move when Hwoarang came and sat down beside her, hands still in his pockets and eyes still gazing at the slight shimmer in his shoes. When the words finally start to come – however stilted and simple they were – he began to speak slowly, "I don't want to live in a world without you in it either…" And then more sentences began to form, "…which is why I'm so afraid for you because of your current situation, because we both know what he's capable of. It makes me angry. It makes me sad. This… isn't what I want to be. This isn't what I want us to be. I want us to be happy. I don't care how we are relationship wise, but my God Razer, I want to see you happy again."

"It is hard now. For everybody. For me, for you, for Baek, for all of us. Even people we don't know. The world cannot smile for as long as this war and oppression continues. Even SH struggles to smile, and we both know what he's like. I just wish that I had an inkling in how I could stop him or delay what he is doing, but I've no clue what he's even up to anyway, which sucks…"

Silence.

"Do you think it will always be like this?"

There was more silence, because she meant so many things.

"It'll be alright," Hwoarang shrugged and looked up from his feet, gazing at her, "So, I dunno, just smile."

She was unsure of how to reply, but the simplicity of the statement indeed invoked the reaction wanted. In turn, he smiled too, before looking back out to the wondrous fountain, watching the water fly high and the snow fall down. She didn't turn away, merely watching him as he stared out. She remembered every part of his face down to the smallest detail, even that freckle that was almost invisible on his neck near his hairline.

The smile remained as she scooted closer to him and threw one arm around his shoulders in a friendly and loving manner. He grinned and imitated her action, bringing her even closer until their heads were touching; and he also lightly held the hand that was draping over his shoulder with his right one. He didn't care. She didn't either anymore. This wasn't forbidden. They could show each other that they still cared and that they were still the best of friends.

"I'll smile," Razer finally said, "for what'll eventually be a great future."


	21. Jumping Rooftops

Author's Note: Apologies for the short chapter!

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-One: Jumping Rooftops **_

Eddy turned away from the man, ignoring the sour taste in his mouth and the bitterness biting at his body. He didn't look back as he went through the doors, he didn't look back as he went down the elevator, he didn't at all wince at the metal churning or the haunting humming; he just waited until he was on the ground floor again and left, heading to his apartment as always. He looked forward to seeing the sun-soaked walls today, now more than ever.

When the door closed with an aching groan, Nina looked to Jin, who was still in the same position as he was before he left. His jaw was rigid, his right leg was crossed over his left, his eyebrows were furrowed together, his hands were resting in his lap, and he appeared amazingly quiet and fine amidst the verbal lashing he had received. He hadn't flinched during the entire episode, and for a few moments, the assassin was nearly positive that sympathy had risen in his chocolate brown eyes.

Eddy's master could not be saved. The illness had swallowed him whole a mere three hours ago. He had fallen into the darkness – alone. Jin was only informed of this fact thirty minutes prior, and he immediately called in Eddy to tell him. Of course, Eddy was devastated, and he dreaded the moments when Christie would find out the misfortune.

"You _promised _to save him," he had hissed, hands clenching. His teeth had pressed together afterwards, and his voice continued to rise in volume, "You said that the Zaibatsu had the technology to save him! That they had the knowledge to prolong his life, give him more time, and then fix him in the end! And what's happened? He died!"

Jin had said or did nothing. He just stared.

And then Eddy had gone on a tirade, yelling at the top of his lungs, screaming at how Jin was a liar and how he was a good for nothing asshole who had gotten to the top but still refused to his proper job, which was to _help, _not _hurt. _Those lifeless eyes merely watched the man grieve and rage and hate, and he knew that if looks could kill, he would've been dead a thousand times over. He never wanted to work for him, he knew that – he was doing it so his Master could live. And he died. He couldn't survive any longer.

"Eddy Gordo," he'd finally remarked.

He stopped his fuming and looked directly at the man he called his Master, silently giving him attention.

"I release you from your duties as a Tekken Force soldier. Go home and grieve in peace."

And just like that, the bargain was broken. With one death, another's freedom came, and it was bittersweet.

Nina was unable to withhold the question itching at the back of her throat, "Why?"

"Because," he remarked, still staring straight ahead of himself, "I understand how it feels to lose someone close to you…" He shot a wayward glance at his bodyguard, who seemed to be registering the person he was speaking of in her mind. They'd met, after all, all of those years ago, "It hurts, like a knife through the heart, or candle wax burning down your throat. And it never, _ever _leaves you," he looked to her wholly now, "And I know you understand it too."

Memories of Richard flowed through her mind. The assassin swallowed whatever feelings began to bubble up inside and nodded, "You never forget."

"Yes. And," his voice suddenly turned cold as he looked back ahead of himself, "that is why Eddy is of no use to me anymore! He will allow his feelings to get in the way – sadness and anger for his Master's death, for one; and then his morality will rise from within him, now that he has nothing left to really fight for. He will question why he is taking control of this territory, why he is taking that life on my behalf, and so on and so forth. He is no longer fit to be my puppet," he looked to Nina again, eyes narrowed, "Keep tabs on him. If he so much as spills a single military plan, or any other valuable piece of information… have him killed immediately."

Nina saluted stiffly before watching his form rise from his throne and take the same steps as Eddy before him. She began to follow him, but a single hand was raised, silently asking her not to approach, telling her that she was free for the rest of the night. She said nothing as he continued on his way, closing the doors behind her, leaving her alone in an empty room as she watched the globe spin on the demonic, gloved stone hand.

* * *

The moment he stepped out, he pulled out his shades and headed towards his motorbike. After mounting it and revving the engine, he was off, speeding down the streets again, hearing nothing but the roar of the wind and the hiss of the machine. He'd grown remarkably attached to this item – when he first started riding it, he could vaguely understand why Hwoarang liked to ride around so – because it cleared the mind and was a great adrenaline rush.

He inwardly growled the moment the redhead crossed his thoughts. He was wary of him, because he knew that if he wanted to, he could stir up a lot of trouble. What surprised, worried and irked him was the fact that he hadn't started to do so as of yet. He expected the Korean to take that old rebellious string to heart and just go – bring down his empire before it had the chance to stop, take away valuable assets, and so on – but he'd not even lifted a finger, let alone be suspicious.

But for as long as he was around, for as long as he was still alive, he had his value.

Jin had become so caught up in his thoughts that he was unaware of the numerous G-Corporation helicopters following him from behind. The worried screams of people around him went undetected, the fast-paced running of the aforementioned people went undetected, and the whirring of the helicopter blades went undetected. What he _did _notice was the looming shadow on the ground and the sudden gunfire blazing before him in parallel lines.

He hated this.

He hated this because he was being questioned. He hated this because every shot that was fired was in rebellion against the good cause, the best cause, _the right _cause. He hated that the people, _his people, _would turn against him in favour of someone who was older and 'wiser'. In favour of Kazuya and G-Corporation, in favour of a damned and doomed, apocalyptic future… at least the future that _he _was going to make wouldn't be as bad, or something. Right?

…Right?

_You know it would be, _Jin hissed, _I am shocked you even doubt yourself._

Be silent, mortal, Devil growled in response, You have no power over me. If you did, you would still have your wonderful, wonderful _freedom._

Lights turned red up ahead. As cars on his side of the traffic came to a stop, he burst through as the other cars began to cross, not caring about what could have occurred to himself or those around him. He just kept driving, weaving into this lane and then into that so as to try and trick whatever gunfire was heading his way. His face was like stone – emotionless and bleak – and it didn't change for as long as he drove.

And as he somehow leapt off of a hill and began to drive across rooftops, he wondered about how to tighten his control on _everything. _And as he considered, a solution was delivered when he felt faintly in the back of his heart another's flutter.

* * *

"I warned you," Jin hissed.

She furrowed her eyebrows, "Warned me of what?"

"I – _he _told you to leave," he growled, speeding towards her position on the couch, seizing her left hand, showing her the claw marks once again, "And you didn't."


	22. Lies

Author's Note: So on the 18th of August 2011 (Seong-Hada's birthday, ironically), I finished writing this fic. Four and a half years of blood, sweat and tears, and it's just all done. That's it, no more, goodbye. It feels so strange. I mean, I've opened up the WFM word document several times since to work on it, and then I realise there's nothing more to write. As a result, this will be updated more frequently (prooobably once a week)…!

I would also like to extend my heartfelt gratitude to TeaC0sy, who seems to be the only person reading this anymore and reminding me that somebody still likes it. It's disheartening but I'm glad you're here for me, TeaC0sy; so I hope you enjoy this!

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Two: Lies**_

An image of a smirking face and insane laughter was forever implanted in her mind. The stinging wounds were forever associated; and she couldn't believe that he somehow had blackmailed her into doing this. The feeling in her stomach hadn't gone away since last night, the one where it was a cross between throwing up and tightening even more so. Razer didn't know how she was going to do this or how she was going to cope, but as cold sweat poured down her body when she looked at Jin behind her as she left the mansion, she knew she had to, because if she wasn't true to her word, then he most certainly would be.

The lesser of two evils.

Her hands were shaking when the limo driver took her to what she considered her real home, to what she considered her real family. Even as the car moved to the dojang, she still felt she was trapped within the mansion's walls, raising her arms in defence, crying because of the horrible things he said, screaming because of the terrifying things he promised to bring. For once, she felt as though she even remotely played the part of anything angelic, even if the means was cruel.

She shut her eyes tightly and tried to detach herself from this reality, but the moment the driver announced that she'd reached her destination, she paled all over and began to slowly exit, looking squarely at the pavement leading up to the front door of the dojang. As she walked, thoughts began to eat at her – what would she say? How would she do this? What would happen afterwards? How would…?

And before she could even answer those questions for herself, she had raised her hand and knocked on the door, watching as it then squealed open and as Baek stepped aside, bowing slightly in return to the small, stiff smirk. He murmured a welcome, one which she thanked, and then she noticed that Xiaoyu was wedged between the other two Koreans and waved at her with a happy laugh, "Heyyy! Come sit! We're about to watch the coverage of the tournament to see what type of crap's been going on in the media."

Silence spread throughout the dojang when she did nothing. Not a word escaped anyone's lips, not so much as a whisper. Her presence was wanted, but she felt it was also feared – she couldn't quite understand why, but it took Angel's gentle voice to make her realise that it wasn't her herself, it was what she was possibly here for – what she was representing. They were afraid of the reason for her visit, for they could clearly tell by the look on her face – the one she was fighting so hard to disguise – that it was a bad one indeed.

"Xiaoyu, could…" Razer began, pausing for a few moments, "could you please wait outside of the dojang? I need to speak to… my _family… _alone."

Her eyes fell upon Hwoarang, who in return was gazing at her suspiciously. He was sitting the farthest away from her, but even from this distance, she could watch his facial expression morph from 'oh hey' to 'what's wrong'. She wanted to deter his gaze, but she was unable to, even as the Chinese youth indeed stood and passed in their line of vision, heading out the back with a worried glance to Seong-Hada, who returned it to both her and the elder Korean man standing beside the elephant in the room.

It was as she was staring at him did visions of their past shared dream – because it was a warning, it was _undoubtedly _a warning, one that they ignored when they discussed it, when he knew, when he found out – and then the previous night return to her mind in every detail. Angel's voice swept in through her mind hesitantly, Remember what he told you…

_His cold hand firmly gripped her jaw. She could feel his claw-like nails sink into her flesh, and it stung, just like the words that were whispered into her ear, "I will kill them _all _if you do not stop your interactions with them. Because this ends here. It ends _now. _I will tear them limb from limb until they are screaming, and writhing like the maggots they truly are. And should you challenge me, should you try and _defend _them by raising your hand against me… You will suffer _more.

"_I will start with your teacher…" he hissed, throwing her onto the ground, "The man who took your Father's place. I will chain him to the ground, and oh so agonisingly, I will pull his fingers from his hands, and his toes from his feet. And from there I will move onto his wrists and ankles, and knees and elbows, and shoulders and hips, and then his neck. End his foolish life and prolong his suffering. Make him _regret _ever living._

"_That bumbling fool will be next…" he laughed, red eyes glittering in the moonlight that shone through the window, "I will tear his vocal cords from his throat to stop that disgusting, joyous laugh. I will destroy every happy asset he has within himself, until he is nothing but a pile of pitiable despair… Until he is like me – a creature of absolute darkness. And then I will teaching him _the meaning _of fear…"_

_The notion was making her sick to her stomach. Razer turned away, heaving and crying at the very thoughts of having her teacher and her 'younger brother' ripped to shreds. The very words sounded horrible, but she knew that Jin would save the worst for last. Merely shaking and feeling nauseous at the thought of what he was going to do to Hwoarang, she narrowed her eyes and looked to him, trying to hide such weakness in the face of the demon._

_But he could smell it anyway, as he grabbed her by the front of her shirt, chuckling, "And as for your dear Blood Talon… Well… true to his nickname… He will be bloody by my talons indeed. He will not be recognisable when I am done with him… let alone in one piece. Every bone will be broken. Every organ will be crushed. Every muscle will be ripped apart, and every _memory _you have _ever had _of him will be forever annihilated as I _make _you watch!"_

"Raze?" Seong-Hada asked hesitantly, "You okay?"

She didn't realise she was holding her breath and violently shivering until the 20-year-old had called her back from the dark memories of the previous, perilous night. She didn't realise she had tears in her eyes either, and to combat further suspicion, she swiftly wiped them away, making it seem as though she was rubbing her face due to an itch, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Baek inquired softly, lightly placing a hand on her shoulder, over the coat her Mother used to wear, "You've been feeling rather 'off' for the last few months. You've gotten quieter and quieter, and more and more withdrawn. You barely speak to me or Seong-Hada anymore, only Hwoarang – and even then, it is clearly less than usual. Have we done something?"

"No. Never. I'm sorry you felt it may have been because of you guys."

"Then what is the matter?"

The deep, dark, dank feeling in the pit of her stomach got stronger with every passing moment. Their world was about to be shattered.

The Greek rubbed her arms, trying to find a place to begin. In the movement, some of the bruises peeked out from underneath the jacket, more or less around her wrist, where Jin had fiercely grabbed her. Baek noted the nervous action and the purple colourations - and, acting on fatherly instinct, he addressed them with a solider and angrier tone than before, "What on Earth has Jin done to you, and why?"

"I cannot say."

"You _will_ answer me. It is clearly he who has changed you so!"

Razer was stuttering now, "I cannot say a-and I refuse to say, even if I could…"

And then Hwoarang respectfully interjected, because he knew, "Baek, enough."

The man looked to his oldest student, furrowing his eyebrows, but then quickly noted the serious look on his face. He also noted out of the corner of his eye how Seong-Hada moved to speak also, but then watched as Hwoarang stood from his position, hands in his pockets, and moved until he was standing directly in front of the girl in question.

"Because he'll kill us, right?" he scoffed.

There was a small nod as she looked out the window to her left, "You know he would."

"You haven't told us, or more importantly, hadn't told _me,_ for the last six months or so because you're fuckin' petrified that he'll slit our throats and dump our bodies in a river, and then blame it on the countries opposing the MFE? We don't _care, _Raze! _I _don't care! Just… stop hiding it. Please. Stop hiding it so we can help you. This isn't the Razer we know – let us help you!"

"You already know anyway, what's the point? We spoke of this before!"

"That doesn't matter!" he remarked, becoming a little more animated, "I told you, something can still be done! What's three against one going to do when he looks at you with those menacing red eyes? Kick his ass, that's what! If you just came back and stayed here or something… then we could protect you, or at least help you protect yourself."

"You _can't _help me! He _will _kill you!"

"They're _lies! _Three Iron Fist participants against _one; _how can he?"

"Devil Jin!" her voice quietened down and began to tremble, "The things he has said… The things he has shown me… Shown us_… _Shown _us!_" she was screaming now, raising a hand and lightly shoving Hwoarang in the chest, "He warned us! He came to us in our dreams, he hurt us, he terrified us, he _warned _us! He told us the future, and we did nothing. We just thought… We thought it'd be okay… You said to me it would be okay!"

"Nothing's fuckin' happened yet!"

"No, but something's _about _to!"

"And we can take it."

"I'm _sure _you'd be able to, because that's what we _totally _thought against Jinpachi! Oh, let's fight the most powerful monster in the world! We've got some chick with an Angel Gene, a guy with a Devil Gene, and a mortal man! Then what happened, Hwoarang? _Then _what happened?"

He shook his head, "That's not going to happen again!"

She was crying now, and her throat was going hoarse, "Blind! You are so blind…"

He couldn't retort, because the sheer terror on her face was beginning to infect him. She didn't usually yell at him in such a manner – when she did, it was due to an urgent reason. Pieces were falling into place, joining up at the edges and lining up one by one and stitching together until he was clearing away these joint answers for that one, core answer he kept denying over and over again. Yet as time went on, gravity pulled him closer towards it – and he soon realised –

He knows… Angel murmured.

"Don't," he whispered, "Please don't."

Angel sighed and hung her head, He knows.

"Whether you can or cannot defeat Jin, as a demon or not, personally or by Tekken Force, is not my issue," her throat was tightening. She didn't want to deliver the verdict, she didn't want to say this, she didn't want to do it, she didn't want and never visualised this occurring –

"Don't," he pleaded again, taking one step back and shaking his head, even as tears blurred his eyes, "You promised me."

"And I only break it because it is a most dire situation, Hwoarang, and that it is for your safety… I'm sorry…"

"You _promised _me!"

"I really wish… I did not have to do this. But I cannot put the safety of my family on the line."

With shaking hands, Razer slowly pulled off the silver ring – the three year old promise, renewed and reformed merely a week ago – off of her right hand. Once it was off, she moved it around in her left hand slightly. It was still warm. With a heavy sigh and a choked sob, she looked up to the Korean opposite her, whose mouth was in a firm, unyielding line and whose eyes were misted over, and grabbed his hand, lifting it and forcing the ring into the palm of it. She then made his fingers close around it.

"Until this over, we cannot be friends. We cannot see each other, we cannot speak to each other… I cannot be in this family."

The blow was dealt.

Time seemed to slow and freeze. Baek's expression morphed from curious and angry to saddened, yet understanding. Seong-Hada had no idea what to really say or think, as foretold by his blank, wide-eyed face. Hwoarang had taken several steps back and was shaking his head for a few moments like an immature child, muttering over and over again under his breath 'you promised you promised'. For once in her life, she couldn't pinpoint exactly how he was feeling – but it broke her regardless to see him so distressed.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, looking at them all before trying to approach Hwoarang again, only to be lightly pushed away, "I am so sorry…"

Leave, Angel commanded with utmost delicacy.

Looking at them all one last time and feeling like a stranger amongst them, she wiped her eyes and turned away, retreating to the exit. It was when she lay a hand on the doorknob did she hear Hwoarang hiccup and choke out from his position at the other side of the room, slumped against the wall, still holding the ring in his hand, "_You promised me!"_

She turned away quickly, wrenched the door open and slammed it behind her, breathing in. It was done.

It was opened again, and she was jumped on by Seong-Hada, who was clearly cracking. His eyes were puffy and red from crying, and as she tried to walk away, even with him still holding onto her in a hug, he still followed, trying to stop her from leaving and trying to convince her otherwise. He thought that maybe if he held onto her with all of his might, her stance could be swayed, "Don't leave us, Raze! D-don't leave us!"

She stopped, pried herself from the youth, turned and grabbed his shaking hands, stroking them, trying to comfort him, "I cannot stay, SH…"

Realising he couldn't do anything to stop it, he pulled his hands from hers and threw his arms around her frail form, squeezing her with all his might, regardless of any injuries; and rested his head on her shoulder, mirroring her current position. With a hiccuping sob, he whispered again, "Take care… Okay? Please? Don't get yourself hurt o-or anything."

Nodding a little, she whispered back, "You too. Be careful, Seong-Hada. And look after him."

Slipping away from his grasp, she turned and entered the awaiting limousine. Seong-Hada moved further outside, standing in the driveway. Raising his hand, he waved goodbye as she was driven away, as she waved back, rubbing her eyes violently with her free hand.

Turning away once the car was well out of sight, he entered the dojang again, glumly closing the door behind him. To his dismay, Hwoarang was in the exact same position as before, but with a hand to his face, fingers and thumb on his temples. He couldn't imagine his pain, and if the far away look was anything to go by, he was in a different time again.

He was physically here, but his mind was in a distorted, hallucinotic memory.

_Devil Jin, as fresh as ever, smirked, reading his fist once again as he spoke to the wounded wolf,__ Your sanity is like a ceiling… held up by four pillars. These pillars are… memories… feelings… those you hold dearest to your heart…__ and then he span again, the back of his fist shattering the final pillar that was still up strong and undamaged, and Hwoarang had to watch Razer crumble – a portion was finally true, __They are not _stone… _they are _human. 

A worried Baek hovering around near him, "This isn't forever. She wouldn't let it be that way, let alone yourself."

And for the first time, Hwoarang looked to his Master, "She promised she'd never leave."

"She left to protect us, not because she wanted to. You know she never would."

He closed his eyes and tried to remember what his world felt like without a black star.

_By the end of the King Of Iron Fist Tournament Six, you'll have lost your mind._

The clock ticked forward.


	23. Unfamiliar Ceilings

_**Chapter Twenty-Three: Unfamiliar Ceilings **_

He wasn't sure about how much time passed today. The hours seemed to melt into days. The event was a week ago.

He didn't have to request time alone, because they gave it to him. Seong-Hada went to work, trying to put on a cheery smile as always, his voice still just as chirpy as it was beforehand – but of course, he knew that inside, he was splitting open, like a parting wound. Baek merely busied himself, trying to reassure himself that this was only temporary, and that he'd see her again in better circumstances.

Those sienna eyes had been staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, thinking… wondering why it had to be this way.

Hwoarang rolled over on his bed, facing away from the door again, shutting his eyes, trying to remember. He was trying to remember what life was like without this bullshit. He was trying to remember how bright the world was when the lights that guided him – them – everybody – weren't as black as night, as though they weren't there. He was trying to remember how it felt _not _to worry, and _not _to be so tentative, and _not _to be so goddamn frustrated with everything that'd been happening.

He never thought he would admit it, but he missed the days when all he had to worry about was the corrupt angel. Things seemed so simple then. Try not to get her angry lest the demon comes out to play. If she did get mad, try and calm her. If it didn't work, tell her that you'd be waiting for her to come home. If she came back hours later caked in blood, patch up those wounds. Hold her at night. Remind her that just because she had a parasite inside didn't mean that it was a reflection of her herself. Remind her that she was loved – even if she didn't understand for a while.

Those were the days where he could tickle her until her lungs gave out. Those were the days that he could stare at her for as long as he wanted without feeling like he was intruding or setting up a reason for her to be harmed. Those were the days where it wasn't so wrong to touch her in a friendly way. Where it wouldn't hurt to say 'I love you' – because he did, he really did, he always would – and those were the days that he thought, _he knew _that they'd never break apart.

_God dammit Hwoarang._

He swallowed before forcing himself to open his eyes again, thereafter forcing himself to sit up. It was as he looked out to the storming weather did he suddenly feel overwhelmed by all of his feelings again – the ones he'd been forcing inside, the ones he forced himself to keep control over. The feelings ate him alive; they catapulted him to walk across the room and throw the chest of drawers onto the ground and then move onto other bits and pieces of furniture.

He ripped the sheets. He threw his pillows. He threw the mattress. He threw his alarm clock. He threw his lamp. He tore one curtain down. He just _destroyed, _like a beast. An animal that was still hurting and didn't really know what else to do. A wounded wolf that did not have another to help him heal or cover him in his hours of need. Not this time. No, not this time. When she was in his life, he could at least cry about it. But now without her there, he had to bottle it up or it'd destroy him, and he wouldn't be able to stop. Crying wouldn't solve anything today.

Alone he must march.

There was an eerie silence for several minutes as he stared at where the clock used to be. The Korean was staring at the ring on the bedside table, the one he bought for her three years ago – the one with 'your angel' on the inside and 'my angel' on the outside. A promise that he'd always be there and that she'd always have all of him, because he'd always been hers. It looked like it hadn't aged a single day.

A different feeling – a hardening and sudden resolve – took hold. Hwoarang reached across and grabbed it, and then continued to stare at it. Moments passed before he put his hands behind his neck and undid the rocket pendant. He then placed the ring around the chain and dropped it so that it was beside the rocket pendant, thereafter putting it back on and exhaling sharply.

Before he knew it, he was on the ground, resting his back against the frame of the bed, forehead on his knees, silent – he was himself in the previous nightmare. He wasn't screaming or crying. He was there, but he wasn't there. He was hurting, but he was still trying to convince himself that it was only temporary and that things would get better. Shit would get better and they wouldn't have to be afraid of the light.

_When you come back, my arms will be wide open._

* * *

His smell was strongest here.

She was sitting with her back pressed against the bed and with her forehead on her knees. Her breathing was uneven, but she was steadily getting it under control. She was in her old street attire, her eyes were wet, and she finally, _finally _understood what it felt like to feel as if she had nothing. To feel like the billions of subjects Jin had underneath him. She could hold on, because she still had him. She still had _them. _And now…

There was a light knock at the door. With a small sigh, she realised that she was currently living part of the nightmare she had with the Korean – and Miyako entered with a box of tissues, a glass of water and some chocolate. The youth quickly closed the door behind her and lowered herself behind her, dropping the box before her friend's feet and offering the other two to her. She spoke, her voice uneven and worried, "Please, have some chocolate. It will make you feel better. And I brought you some water, I know you like water."

"I don't really feel like any right now."

She paused for a good, long moment before speaking again, "I know it hurts, but you did what was right."

Razer said nothing, because she wasn't sure what to say in response.

Tucking some of her messy, bob cut hair behind her ear, she sighed, trying to find the right words to say without sounding overly childish, "Think about it, you left them so they don't get killed in the future. They won't be angry, they understand, yeah? I don't know why you did what you did but, take comfort in the fact that they will be alright."

She's sweet, but what is not to say that something else could occur? 

_Angel… shut up. I don't want to think about what could still happen._

I'm merely stating the truth…

_I know. But please. Just don't._

She listened to her prattle on for a while, but before long she felt shadows loom. She lifted her head and quickly snatched the water from her hand, downing all of it – something she chose to do to break her dream up a little and to try and calm herself from the oncoming storm – before handing her the empty glass. A deep, powerful voice soon followed, and she tightened her grip on herself as it flowed through the otherwise still room, "Miyako, leave the room. Now. And take all of that with you, it is not necessary."

She immediately nods and does as she was asked, not saying goodbye to the other woman in the room. Once she was out, Jin came and sat on the edge of the bed behind her, a pleased smirk on his features. He looked down at her, hands in his lap, watching her look straight across at the cupboard on the other side. He eventually joined her in staring at the cupboard and spoke, "Hello."

"I've done as you asked," she replied blankly.

"Very good," he cooed, hands sliding to her shoulders, beginning to lightly massage them.

There was silence before she finally managed to bite out, "Please don't back down on what you said. Don't hurt them unnecessarily."

"Then…" Jin remarked, "you will do as I say from here on in. No back chat. No raised fists. No screaming or seething or sabotage. You can hate me in silence, but just remember that to do it publicly or to my face will indeed have dire consequences… Consequences of my choosing."

At this, she furrowed her eyebrows and glared at him, "You bitch."

He suddenly dug his fingers into her flesh all too hard, "What did I just say?"

Biting back some type of snappy comeback, she mumbled an apology.

He released her, placing his hands in his lap instead, "Very good… But still, who knows? Maybe they will just pack up and move on, leaving you behind in my hands… where you will have nowhere else to go. Perhaps they'll find that their life is better off without you in it. And maybe he would quite happily _forget _you for the rest of his miserable days."

She looked over her shoulder and opened her mouth, ready to speak. Her Father used to say these things, and she would believe them as a child – but now, she was an adult, and she could see them for what they were. They were just lies to try and break her, and she wouldn't, because she knew the truth, "He wouldn't. He'd wait forever, really. He loves me… which is more than I can say _for you._"

Jin laughed, grabbing her by her jaw, holding her there, "Who _dares _to love forever?"

Razer said nothing, trying to maintain an emotionless, blank face until he released her. When he did, he exited the room, the back of his trench coat fluttering slightly.

As she rested the base of her skull on the soft, plush bed, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, she affirmed in her mind that she _would _get out of this situation. She'd get out of it without having to hurt any of her friends, she'd get herself fixed up – and _the real _Jin, if possible – and she would leave. She most definitely made the wrong decision a long, long year ago.


	24. Scream

_**Chapter Twenty-Four: Scream**_

* * *

Two weeks had passed.

It was highly unusual, according to Steve, to have such a gap between the previous round and the semi final fights. Most participants were inclined to agree, but Jin reasoned that at this stage in the competition, the six semi-finalists needed more time to prepare and train for the battles. It was generally taken to heart, with some people focusing on the fights or going out for a while.

He was in the gym with Julia to try and keep her in top shape for the semis. He and Christie would take turns, making her work on her speed and the force of her attacks. She remained ever vigilant, her sights set on stopping the collision between the two Mishimas to avoid the beast from coming out of his cave. She and Zafina had met through a certain Korean and had a chat. They both agreed that, even if either of them didn't get through, they wouldn't give up. The future of the world was far too important.

Speaking of the Korean, he'd been ridiculously silent, and it was mirrored in the woman that had, until recently, been by his side. She noticed that they'd passed each other a few times, but didn't speak. Pinning it down to Jin's influence, or a command that he'd issued, she merely would offer a smile in silent support whenever one of them would look at her with a dejected visage.

Steve couldn't help but comment on it as the two women continued to train, "I wonder what happened."

"Jin," Julia concluded, wryly scowling, "Who else? Nobody else could force them apart like that."

"True, true," he rested his hands at the back of his head and quickly decided to change the topic, noting how the woman's elbows rammed into his girlfriend's dark-skinned side, "You're using the forearm a bit more than the elbow. Might want to switch that up if you're going for a strike to the side of the head. Could knock 'em out if you hit them hard enough."

A deeper voice interjected, "Training hard, I see."

The trio turned, noting that the person was none other than Baek Doo San. They all stopped what they were doing and either waved, grinned or bowed respectively. All gestures were returned in the same way. He looked to Christie and flicked his head a little, silently asking her to move away. He wanted to take her place. As he went into stance, Julia eventually asked, quirking one of her curvy eyebrows, "Why?"

"I may as well be of some use to somebody," he shrugged, eyes diverting to the floor for a few moments, "I have one student who has buried himself in his job, I have another who has almost entirely shut down in depression; and as for the third student, I cannot even interact with her," he was looking at Julia again, "So I may as well be of use to spar against."

Nodding a little and not pressing any further, she span in a small circle and moved to ram her shoulder into the man.

* * *

He'd taken to spying on her.

Hwoarang couldn't believe he had decided that this was a good idea, but he had to make sure that she would be okay. He knew and understood the seriousness of the situation, and he also knew that there was a good chance that Angel would alert Razer to his presence. In either case, he stuck to the outskirts of her vision, being in places that he knew she wouldn't look.

As of late, she'd been accompanied by Lars, who was constantly by her side, offering her this and talking about that. He was proving to be the perfect distraction for her, which was great in terms of looking away from the pain. Jin had probably assigned him to his girlfriend, so that he could keep on the lookout for any of the three. He thought he'd been spotted once or twice. If he had, he said nothing, and he was thankful that the Swede understood.

They began entering the Mishima Mansion together, and from his place on the far side of the street, he turned and walked away, the wind stroking his back through a black wife beater. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his jeans again, and he was just staring ahead of himself as he moved away. The days seemed to meld together now.

What he didn't expect is the pitter-patter of footsteps. Quickly spinning on his heel in the hopes of it being that specific woman, he was surprised to see Miyako running out, clutching an envelope to her chest. His eyebrows flew sky high when she was in front of him and panting, quickly looking behind her in the hopes that no sinister beings had noticed her temporary escape. She stopped a few feet away from him, bowing slightly and tucking some of her hair behind her ear, before offering him the envelope.

He took it and observed it for a few moments, noting his name on it in Hangul. He then looked up to the servant, hopeful, "This is from…?"

She nodded hurriedly, bowing again and taking her leave. She didn't want to be caught, and she wanted him to enjoy the writing while he could. Soon enough, she was back inside the mansion, and a quick peek out the large window and through the black, metal bars revealed his absence. She smiled a little, glad that he'd left to read it away from the Mansion, so he wasn't caught either.

The Korean had walked all the way back home in silence, waiting to read the letter given to him. It was when he locked himself back up in his room again did he tear the envelope open and pulled out the letter inside.

'_BT,_

_If you're reading this, then Miyako's gotten through to you. I don't have long._

_The days that have passed feel like eons. I know you understand. It feels like I've lost a lung, and myself. He's a bit calmer now that you're not in the picture; but as a result, I am a lot more stressed. I'm still trying to find out what he's doing, but he's sharing no plans with me – only with Nina. It hurts because… I still want to fight, but I'm unable to, because I know what he'd do – you are the blackmail. _

_I'd just… I'd never forgive myself if you died again because of me._

_I miss your voice. I miss the way that you used to hold me. I miss that feeling of KNOWING that I'm loved. I miss those times where you'd tell me that you love me, and wouldn't have to feel guilty about saying or thinking 'I love you too', because I still do and I always will; and I just wish I was fucking smart enough to realise that the devil could never be tamed by my hand. I should've run while I still could've._

_I miss what we were, but, we can't go back now. I miss what we could've been, but we may never know._

_He is dead to me, deep in the sands of time. Jin is buried beneath the might of the devil, and he is too chained down to ever see the light of day again. It hurts to say that I have no hope for him, because even when I'd lost hope in myself, I had somebody rooting for me on the other side. I love him for who he was, not who he is._

_If he is in the sand, then you are in the sky. Shining, joyous… and unattainable. Something I could never reach, even though all I had to do is open my stupid mouth and tell you that I love you. I love you for who you were, for who you are and for who you will be, and nothing will ever change that. You're my everything._

_I want you to understand that although we may not be together, you mean the world to me and I would gladly go down fighting for you to keep breathing – and I have been. I hold every single memory we've had together and live in them everyday, because that's the closest I can be to you for what might be the last time if this isn't fixed._

_I'm sorry for hurting you, but sometimes people have got to be a little hurt before the wounds can shut once and for all. If I could take back all the pain I caused you, I would. Please know that I love you. And if we ever get out of this, we'll see how our future should've been. _

_I'm sorry that the only time I can see you now is in the memories we've already had, in my dreams. But I'll keep on fighting, so then you're a reality again._

_Don't hate me for what I've done, because I did it for you. _

_- SW.'_

It took a few moments for the Korean to finish analysing the letter in absolute detail; but once he was done, he merely folded up the letter, tucked it in his pocket, and stood with a ghost of a smile on his lips, and quickly decided that it was time for some serious training.

* * *

She was scrubbing the foyer floor hours later when her master and his bodyguard descended down the curling stairs.

Miyako immediately stopped what she was doing and exhaled sharply when she was asked to rise to her feet. With a slight nod, she did so, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, and courteously bowing to the man who gave her a job and kept her safe from the bombings of the MFE and of G-Corporation outside, and the woman who guarded him. Faking a smile, she greeted them, her voice soft as always, "**Greetings**."

His mouth was a firm line and his eyebrows were angled, stooping downward in the usual, characteristic fashion. She, however, swore she could feel something else holding him there with his arms folded across his chest. When he nodded his head just that little bit in return to her greeting, her blood ran cold. Nina was beside him, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her white pants, and her face was as blank as paper. The beads of sweat that were beginning to form on her forehead felt slightly comforting, for whatever reason.

"**One of the chefs has told me that he saw you running outside for a few minutes a few hours ago**," he sneered, "**Why?**"

It was a lie – nobody here told him anything, but he still knew. He _always _knew.

Her default reaction was to put on a brave face, with slight hints of anger, and challenge the statement, hoping that he would believe her as opposed to this witness, "**He is lying, sir! I have not left this house since the day you brought me here and gave me this wonderful job. Perhaps he is referring to another maid? Because I am certainly not the one who has set foot outside of this Mansion.**"

When a mighty fist collided with her face, courtesy of the Irish woman after a stiff nod from her master, she screamed and shrunk back and fell to her knees, blood streaming through the fingers that were mashed up against her broke nose. She started to sob, pain creating the tears that crawled down her cheeks; and she looked up at Jin, who remained exactly as he was. The sneer twisted into an annoyed scowl, "**Do not lie to me, Miyako. I was gracious to you. I was kind enough to let you in after your entire family had been killed. **_**I **_**and I **_**alone **_**have kept you safe here, as a reward for your services. You will tell me why you ran outside.**"

Realising that she was unable to get out of this, she continued to sob in the hopes of him finding some mercy in his heart. As her eyes darted up to Razer, who was peeking around the corner, she wondered if she'd ever talk with her again, "**I-I was delivering a message. The person happened to be around, so I figured it was best if I bolted outside very quickly and give the message, and then return. Work did n-not fall behind – I am still ahead of schedule, and I still r-remain loyal to yourself and your cause, and I still pledge the utmost allegiance.**"

Lies upon lies… Devil hissed, The world's a filthy liar.

Jin flicked his head again, and then suddenly, there was a searing pain up her arm. Miyako looked to her left, noting that her arm had been broken. She continued to shake and shudder in pain, soon lying on her right side, staring up at the two people who glared down at her with such venom. If Jin could be synonymous with an animal, then it would most certainly be a snake – poisonous to those who came too close, and constricting his entire world.

It was that pain, coupled with the look in their eyes and his slight nod to his bodyguard that had her realise that things were only going to get worse from here. It was that pain and that look that made her realise that she wasn't going to win this, and that in the hopes of making someone happy, she was going to pay dearly, with something she could never get back. And she supposed she was alright with that.

If her life meant someone had a little more hope, then she'd done all the good in the world.

And so, she sat up a little, spat at Jin's shoes, and hissed in plain English, "I hope he kills you… _monster._"

And then a single, loud gunshot resonated.

Jin's eyes had narrowed at her last word, whilst Nina pulled back her smoking gun. With a loud and annoyed drawl, the ruler of the world hissed, "**Somebody come in here and clean up this mess. There are brains and blood all over my white floor! And dispose of this wretched body, unless you wish to join her in the dumps.**"

As various people came scuttling to the scene, holding in the bubbling bile, Jin turned on his heel with Nina and began to walk, casting a single glance at Razer, who was trembling all over. He looked away and continued forward, intending on returning to work and coordinating more war plans. And as he walked underneath the archway, he sent her a message through their minds, grinning a little as he did so.

'You _did this.'_

* * *

Author's Note: Miyako's goneee. Apologies to those who liked her. I have this horrible habit of killing my own OCs, you see –points to past 'Me' fics- -shot- Anyway, twelve chapters to go before this is done. I know, its sad D: XD


	25. Follow

_**Chapter Twenty-Five: Follow**_

He'd been sitting at his desk, calculating very important things such as military tactics, when Anna entered with a glass of water. He took it without looking at her, scanning over the passages he'd found in the book. When she sat on the armrest of his chair, though, Kazuya gave her a disgruntled stare, and she moved to stand behind him instead. She tucked some of her hair behind her ear and inquired, noting that he was reading that book on legends again, "Have you found anything new yet?"

He nodded his head slowly, scanning over the writing to be sure, "Yes actually. This passage states that if there is a concentrated amount of tainted spirits about, the beast will come forth from underground to much faster than usual. It also hypothesises that all tainted spirits derive from the beast himself. By defeating him, these spirits are removed from our world and placed back into theirs. He's not eliminating them in a sense, so the threat of satanical individuals would still torment humans, but their physical influence would be removed for the time being."

Whilst Anna understood what he'd read, she didn't understand its implication or relevance to her boss. She merely smiled a little with her painted lips and nodded, not noting the faint sense of longing in Kazuya's eyes when he turned to cast a hazy stare at her. As he closed up the book, she took several steps back, watching as he stood and began to walk out of the room. She soon followed, adjusting her coat, and wondered what thoughts were swimming through his head.

She looked back at the book that had driven him into such an isolated and thoughtful state with a grim expression, before shutting off the light to his office and closing the door behind her.

* * *

Julia's eyes were squarely on Zafina's.

The mysterious woman had sat down directly opposite her in the café, but she had not yet spoken a word. Her hands were delicately placed on the table, her fingers curled slightly, like the hint of the worry line at her brow. Julia merely took sip after sip of her tea, occasionally twirling her hair between her fingers. The stare was very unsettling, and she just wanted it to stop. She knew, however, that if she'd finally come face to face with her, then something serious was surely around the corner.

"The beast has begun to stir," she remarked finally, her voice flowing through the wind.

The American said nothing for several moments, merely observing the small details of the other woman's face, before setting her cup down onto the table with a clink. The porcelain sound echoed through the relatively empty and cold area, and as a puff of frosty air escaped her lips when she spoke and exhaled sharply, she heard a bird cry overhead, "I face Jin next."

Zafina did not move. She didn't even blink, "Then we must prepare you immediately."

Before Julia could comment, the table before her, along the cup, had gone flying. Confused and jumping back, she noted how the foreigner was in her fighting stance, and it was here that she realised that she intended to have her fight here and now. To her, there was no difference – the gym, the café, it was all the same – it was all somewhere they could prepare her to face the most powerful man in the world.

Brown hair whipped by as she span out of the way of a coming, spinning, vertical strike. In response, Julia slammed her shoulder into Zafina's lithe body, watching as it knocked over the makeshift, advertising fence behind her with a bang. People began to scatter in the commotion, many of whom were confused – and then she'd been knocked over from below. As she fell to the ground, she saw how the woman had now entered her spidery stance, crouched low to the ground.

She furrowed her eyebrows and stood, avoiding several strikes that came her way before forcing her into the air with two, well timed kicks. She then dashed forward repeatedly, jutting her elbow into the body a few times, before slamming her arm down and throwing out her right leg in a circular motion. In response, Zafina, once standing, stood on one leg, her hands moving in small circles as well – and then she'd launched Julia, propelling her further back into the café.

"You have to be less wary!" Zafina hissed, bringing her arms down in a thundering crash – but it was blocked, "You are too defensive and curious – you must be prepared to strike within a moment's notice, and you _must _use _everything _to your advantage! I don't care if a strike to the head is not chivalrous, it must be done if it is to prevent the two stars from clashing! Do you understand me?"

She was annoyed at the direction, and in immediate response to it, Julia grabbed Zafina, arched her back, and threw her into a bunch of tables.

A few hundred feet away, Lars could hear the clashing, screaming people and grumbling combatants. He folded his arms and shook his head from side to side, narrowing his eyes a little in annoyance, "You would think that they would take that elsewhere instead of initiating it in an innocent person's shop. I hope they have enough money to cover the damage that they've caused."

Razer merely nodded a little in silent agreement, watching on. She pulled her Mother's brown jacket closer to her body to fight off the biting chill of winter before continuing to walk through the Plaza. The Swede soon followed swiftly, his cape moving behind him. He was about to speak again, but instead, listened as she cleared her throat and remarked, "I'll give them a cheque or something to cover the damage. From Jin's money. It's better going to that than to causing more damage to the world."

"Well," he chuckled a little, "as long as he doesn't end up screaming at you for it or anything, then it should be fine. Your intentions are always fine, so don't worry about that…" he noted red hair in the distance and stopped her from walking, swiftly placing an arm out in front of her, and when she grumbled a 'what', he said it was nothing and continued on their way, deciding to make a beeline for the ice cream store, because she needed some sort of pick-me-up, "Are you feeling any better about Miyako?"

"Not really."

The blunt answer was expected, but he felt it was necessary to ask anyway. He stretched and cleared his throat, moving towards the very empty store – after all, it was winter, and ice cream was quite cold, "Mm, I thought so. Don't worry, the pain will get easier. It won't hurt as bad, and in time, it shouldn't feel like a stabbing knife."

Razer's response was a little meaner than she intended, but she hoped that it got the point across regardless, "Listen, Lars… I know you're trying to be helpful and shit, but I don't need to be told stuff like that. I don't want to remember what happened. I want to remember her in the right light once all of this shit is over. So until then, just don't mention it, alright? Not her, not the murder, not the whole 'time heals all wounds' crap, I know all of that. I know that more than you think I do."

He stopped walking, watching as she walked ahead a little, and when she realised that he stopped walking, she did too. She span around and faced him, noting the small and understanding frown – and then Alexandersson spoke, "Perhaps if I was deemed worthy enough, like a certain Korean, you would've been able to share such information with me so I wouldn't have to end up repeating things you already know."

The words stung, because she knew what he was implying – 'I'm sorry I'm not Hwoarang'.

She narrowed her eyes a little and turned on her heel again, "Guard the perimeter. I will go get us some ice cream."

He nodded a little and did so, now standing out the front of the glass door with his arms folded across his chest and his blue eyes ever so closely watching his surroundings. He felt like an idiot, really – he should've been out in the war zones with Tougou and his other friends. It's not that he didn't enjoy spending time with the Greek, it's just he thought that his services weren't really all that needed – after all, she was clearly capable of taking care of herself. He understood the reasoning behind it, and he even agreed with it, but Jin didn't need to send his best man to look after the girl he'd long lost.

Directly across from him, leaning against a brick wall on the darker side of the Plaza with his hands in his pockets, Hwoarang continued to watch.

* * *

Nina's arms were folded across her chest as she stood beside Jin and eyed off her sister.

She didn't know why the other man had called this meeting – they were supposed to hate each other, after all – but she remained ever vigilant for other assassins. She had to protect Jin's life. Without it, all of his delicate and beneficial plans would crumble without anybody to hold them up, and the world would be in an even worse state than previously thought. Exhaling, she continued to listen as Japanese words were calmly thrown back and forth.

She didn't know what they were planning, but judging by the occasional looks Jin threw her way, it was to do with the Azazel creature. She'd heard some stories from him – nothing major, just little tales – and she wondered how many of them were true. Could the beast summon thousands of scarabs? Could the beast fly? Could the beast talk or breathe fire or shoot lasers? She tried to visualise them all at the same time, once, and it was quite the horrifying image. Of course, she never let her fear show.

The minutes soon melted by, and when they all parted, Nina inquired, "A business transaction?"

"No," he answered, swinging one leg over his Engima motorcycle, "Just… plans within plans."


	26. Last Song

_**Chapter Twenty-Six: Last Song**_

Heihachi was standing inside his beautiful Zaibatsu at long last.

He quickly adjusted his little black bow tie before watching as the other semi finalists entered. He hid his humour behind his haughty expression – he never, _never _would've held a banquet like this to _congratulate _them. None of them had won yet, so why were the congratulations already spewing forth? He didn't understand the logic, and quite frankly, he didn't care anyway. He decided to use this opportunity to study how each person conducted themselves, so he knew what weaknesses to exploit during battle or otherwise.

Kazuya entered in a white, leather suit. The greeting sneer on his face was apparent, and he returned it. The man walked by, leaving his bodyguard at the door with his grandson's one – he was surprised to see that the Williams sisters were so civil to each other as of late – and then he looked back as the final two participants entered, the butlers shutting the door behind them.

Julia, dressed in a light brown, strapless maxi dress, merely gave a quick glare to the elder Mishima as she passed him. Her hair was still tied in two plaits, and she still had the feather earrings in. That was more acknowledging than Hwoarang at least, who entirely ignored him as he walked by alongside his friend. He noted how he still wore the rocket pendant with a friend, how his red dress shirt was partially open, and how black the jacket and pants and shoes were – and his hair was down. He blinked repeatedly at the lack of goggles.

It was when Jin called him over did he stop pondering the absence of the goggles and the idiocy of his grandson. With an annoyed growl, he strolled over and took a seat, noting how the Native American was on his left, how his grandson was on his right, and how Kazuya was seated directly opposite him. For a moment, he felt bloodthirsty chills crawl up and down his spine. Why did he have to be seated here? It was annoying, he hated his son and Jin knew that.

When he looked across the table, though, the pieces clicked. He'd deliberately seated everybody this way to be a challenge to them. To test them, for whatever reason. The biggest one he noticed was Hwoarang, who had Julia on his right (not to his annoyance, though), Kazuya on his left – and he was aware of the bad blood between them – and Razer sitting across from him, who, for some reason, simply refused to speak to him as of late.

Judging by the hidden longing look in her eyes, though, it was not by choice.

Jin cleared his throat, gathering the attention of all but one. He motioned to the food with a grin, trying to be as welcoming as possible. He was aware that everybody at the table wanted to harm or murder him anyway, all for various reasons, "This banquet is for us – for making it so far in the tournament. I feel it was fair to congratulate the semi finalists on their efforts, and hopefully this gesture will show that and also strengthen your resolve to pursue onward and win the King Of Iron Fist Six."

There were a few moments of silence after his little speech, and he looked around, noting that everybody was observing the meal, worried about poison. He wasn't that snide or cowardly – but when he saw Razer silently sigh and began to eat, most of the others soon followed, knowing that if she figured it was okay, then it most probably was.

Everybody was uncomfortable, even as light music played. The tension amongst all six was evident in their own little ways. Julia merely looked down and ate her food, refusing to make eye contact with the three Mishima men. Kazuya occasionally stabbed the meat on his plate with his fork, before glaring at his Father, whom he still hated. Heihachi responded similarly. Jin was trying to shrug off the tension by complimenting the chef on the food (who would stutter and nervously thank him). Razer focused on eating. Hwoarang merely observed her in silence, elbows on the table, fingers locked together and resting beneath his nose.

Jin, of course, caught it, and stated blankly, "It's rude to stare."

He viciously hissed from behind his fingers, "It's fucked to hit someone you're supposed to _care_ _for_."

Razer froze, and Jin's face remained blank – but behind the mask, he had split open at the information betrayal. The hand that was underneath the table, the one that was holding hers, tightened to the point of pain – and he ignored when her face did contort at the stinging sensation. He merely smiled at him, and in a taunting manner, spoke with a delicate tone, one that he intended to wound, "If I am the monster, then you are the failed knight."

The comment indeed burned him, but he held his ground, not allowing himself to show that it'd hurt. He was holding his old persona – the wolf of his past – and dammit, he was wounded, but all that meant was that he would growl and bare his teeth more. His eyes narrowed, "Your time will come. I may lose my mind, but _you _will lose your soul to the beast."

The two younger Mishima men, as well as Julia, froze over at the word 'beast', but Jin noted how he'd been paying close attention to the nightmares he had created. All heads turned to look at the redhead, who still hadn't changed position nor touched his food. With a crooked smirk, he leant back and finally began to eat, picking at his food with an annoyed expression. Everybody else soon followed tentatively, until all meals were finished and all dishes were collected.

'_You told him,'_ Jin hissed at Razer.

'_He guessed,' _she replied honestly, looking down.

Soon enough, she excused herself from the table, aiming to get as far away from all of them as possible. She was uncomfortable around all of them. The older memories of Heihachi and Kazuya, Julia's current demeanour of absolute silence made it hard to interact with her, she hated how Jin was right now, and the wall between her and her best friend made it difficult to be around him.

Her wandering had led her far, far away from the voices; and she was leaning against a pillar on one of the many balconies, overlooking what she could see of the garden in the night, and listening to the rain. She loved the rain – it was easy to get lost in it as the droplets fell, and the sound was overall calming. The only other sound accompanying her now was Angel's voice, who was trying to talk to her and soothe her. She fought to remind her that this wasn't permanent, and that soon enough everything would be normal. Sadly, it was the same things she'd say day in and day out, so they never really had an effect anymore. In a warring world, words of wisdom go wayward to withering ways.

And then her skin crawled, He's here…

She didn't bother to turn and look, because she could smell that familiar scent, one she craved to have around more often right now. Hwoarang came and stood beside her, hands in his pockets, staring out as well, listening to the crickets and other rustlings in the bush. He was nervous, she could feel that – she wondered if he could feel her own edginess too. The cold air from outside didn't help much.

…She wanted to speak so fucking badly.

_I hate feeling bound… _she murmured to Angel.

Then break it and do something impulsive and right for yourself.

And so, she threw caution to the wind one step at a time and held his left hand, watching as he seized up for a few moments before relaxing. Realising that he wasn't going to push her away, she moved closer until she was in his arms. She sighed a little when he stroked one of her sides, and she felt safe again; but then she wondered how long for as she closed her eyes and held in the tears of mixed feelings.

She looked up at him with a relatively expressionless face, and he looked back. She pulled herself closer to him and slipped her arms around his neck, and he merely held her that little bit tighter. She murmured 'I love you' against his lips before pressing hers to his; and when they parted, he responded in turn, placing her hand over his heart and kissing her again because he missed her. Even then, saying that he missed her really wasn't enough.

Somewhere amidst the exchange, he'd lightly pinned her against the pillar and was running his fingers through her hair as she cupped his cheeks, still kissing her because he couldn't stop and she didn't want him to; and he felt so drugged because he had what he wanted after so many weeks and days and hours and minutes of pain.

What pained him most, though, is that this was so brittle and so temporary.

That realisation made him stop and be silent. Hwoarang pressed his forehead to hers for a few moments, trying to think of what to say to her, because it was something that they would both need to hold on to for what could be many months. Still, he always had trouble when it came to things like this, and he hated that he could never find the right words and chain them together, let alone make them unbreakable. He continued to think, even as he heard sadder music.

But then he realised, he didn't really have to say anything. He never did, because she knew, like she almost always did. She knew that he loved her, she knew that he'd do anything for her, she knew that he would get her out of this, she knew that if she was in trouble he'd come running – she knew that she meant the world to him, and even all alone, as an army of one, he would vigorously defend it until his heart stopped.

He hugged her a little tighter one last time before turning to leave, because he couldn't be gone too long – he used the excuse of 'bathroom break' – and he called out over his shoulder, his voice tight with control, but still that little bit shaky because he couldn't hide everything, "Stay safe."

Razer nodded and also turned to leave, exhaling shakily. She figured it would probably be best if she didn't return to the banquet, as she was feeling tired. Lying down would do a lot of good right now – it would help her get herself together, and it would help her reaffirm within her mind that just because they were separated didn't mean that it was the end.

_I will tear the world down to make sure you survive, _he thought to himself, looking back at her as she was swallowed by the blackness of the corridor opposite him, _And I'd give my life again to make you smile._

So they both held onto this new memory, because it could be the last one they have.


	27. Filth In The Beauty

_**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Filth In The Beauty**_

Julia watched as Jin's lips curved into a cruel smirk, "You think you can stop me?"

She merely shrugged a little and got into stance, her fists clenched so tightly that they shook. There was a tinge of nervousness in her system, yes, but so much of it was purely, unbridled rage at what he had done to the world, and her determination to bring him down where Zafina could not. She already had a grudge against the Mishima family, and all of those years ago, she truly believed that Jin was different.

She was wrong.

When the countdown was over and the fists were flying, that was reinforced. She recalled the last time she had seen Jin fight a friend – he had such a hard time laying a hit on the opponent out of fear for his or her safety – but now he just didn't care. They'd been friends once, but no more. She forgave the tarnish of the Mishima blood, but no more. There was filth in the beauty. He was exactly like the older men, even as a punch swirling with red electricity soared by her face and missed her nose by mere centimetres.

She retaliated with several palms to his shoulders, throwing him off balance for a few moments. When one particular shove influenced his entire centre of gravity, she slammed her shoulder into his body, sending him to the far side of the graveyard. _Why _he chose a graveyard, he didn't know, but it was unsettling her slightly, even though she did not fear the spirits that still lingered and begged for more life.

She did not allow him a chance to stand – she_ had _to succeed – and merely conducted two low sweeping kicks to the side of his head, hoping to knock him out. But as she predicted, he merely stood and did a sweeping kick of his own – Jin was far from over and out, he was part _demon _for spirit's sake – and followed by two rising punches, and then Savage Sword. She stood, feeling dizzy, before feeling a strong elbow and then the opposite foot collide with her body, winding her of the air she had been holding.

There are a few seconds where he does allow her to breathe again, but once he deemed that time was long enough, he conducted Evil Intent, the final punch sending her against the wall. She rolled out of the way of an incoming right axe kick, before rising and hitting him back with her right leg. Jin did not stagger, he merely punched each of her shoulders. The sting stayed with her as she span in a small circle and out of the way of his next attacks, before slamming her shoulder into him again – but before he could get out of her grasp entirely, she threw out one arm and then the opposite leg, sending him to the other side of the arena once again.

What began to worry Julia was that her vision was starting to blur. The battle had only just begun, and she was already becoming very tired – and she knew that Jin was not in the same state as her. She knew it was only a matter of time before she fell, even though she tried hard to block those nasty thoughts from her mind. Even though she tried hard to fulfil what she _had _to do – but the prophecy doesn't lie.

She knew she'd fail, right from the beginning.

And then an intruder came into her mind – and she fought hard to try and throw him out. But no matter what she focused on, the words still found a way to seep into those cold and cobwebbed corners, If you knew that you were too weak to face the man who controls the world, then why did you bother? Do you _really _believe that you will find it in your pathetic soul to _overthrow _me? You have a lot of nerve…

His right fist slammed into her face, sending her far back across the arena. She cried out.

…All the more for me to break.

The ball began to roll, then. She would stumble to her feet only to be battered this way and that again and again and again. She would throw out her elbow only to have it miss, and she would be punished with an onslaught of quick punches and well timed sweep kicks, only to be attacked more so when in the air. Julia attempted several times to purge her mind of Jin's voice, but he was just too strong – and his very mental presence was making her all the more disorientated in the current battle.

It was as he began to go on a tirade, though, did she find some peace within her own mind. She found it easier to block him out as he blindly threw out any attack he could, and even as she successfully and repeatedly slammed her elbow into his body, he continued to ramble, unfaltering, The world is a filthy, _filthy _place, Chang. Nature is filthy, the people are filthy, and their beliefs are filthy. There is little beauty left as the Earth dies. Why do you still fight for it?

She didn't respond. Julia merely kept trying.

She would try until her legs gave out from underneath her. She would try until her last breath faded. She would try until she would inevitably fail. When the world began to spin more so, she knew that her time was approaching – and as she quickly gazed at Zafina standing on the side line, watching her mutter several prayers under her breath, she felt the strike come to the back of the neck – and then only darkness.

* * *

Elsewhere, there was the background noise of the ocean, and wooden thumps.

Heihachi weaved underneath a string of carefully calculated kicks, thereafter grabbing the attacker by the throat, choking him in the air, and throwing him to the opposite side of the arena. The body collided with the wooden fence with a harsh clash, and the arrows that decorated it were snapped in half here and there. He grinned and folded his arms across his chest, realising that victory would soon be his. They were weak. They were _all weak._

Hwoarang stood and charged at his opponent again, conducting more strings in the hopes of laying serious damage on him. High high mid low mid low high mid mid low mid high high mid high low – and a major gap in his defence – and he seized the opportunity to conduct the Human Cannonball throw. With Heihachi face first in the floor, he quickly span around, hoping to slam his heel into his back. Sadly, the spur only came crashing into wood as opposed to flesh, for the attack was predicted and then avoided.

As Heihachi rose, he threw out one of his legs, and his heel connected with the side of the Blood Talon's head. The force of the strike had the Korean drop like a sack of potatoes, and he was lying there, a hand to the wounded area, feeling the red liquid seep through his fingers. The vibrations in the floor, the sounds of wood colliding – the older man was coming closer and closer, his intent solely on finishing off his foe, so he could then get through the last measly participants and take back what was rightfully his.

The pain was making his body shake, but he stood anyway, narrowly avoiding another strike to his throat. He slid into Left Flamingo, before slamming his right foot down harshly, the tip of his boot ripping past Heihachi's shin. The attack left him in Right Stance, where he gave a few, quickly blocked jabs, before throwing out a tracking, left-legged move, which knocked down the man.

The blood had moved from the side of his head and down his cheek, like a tear – and it briefly reminded him of the nightmare. He shook the random thought and was on the offensive again, hurling whatever he could coordinate at the angered Mishima. He didn't care if it was ungraceful, or if his form or patterns were wrong and off, or even if the attacks missed – he was just using this opportunity to vent and fight and hurt and bleed. It was all he could do to stay in the fight right now.

It was all he could do to help Zafina, and to stop the world from splitting open more so, like a busted lip – because the blood that would flow from that wound would be poisonous and deadly, and it would be more lethal than the blow that caused it. And as he weaved underneath another grab attack, he kneed Heihachi in the stomach, causing him to double over; and then he merely straddled him and slammed his fists into the face below him again and again and again.

Baek then called out, "**Enough's enough.**"

But he wasn't done letting go. Not until he actually looked at how Heihachi was unconscious.

Hwoarang shakily stood again and stiffly bowed to the unconscious figure – not that it'd make a difference – before turning away from him. He made his way over to the violent scenery across from him, watching as the clouds continued to spit rain and hiss thunder. And as he watched the aggressive aesthetics, he quickly buried his pain and closed himself up once again.


	28. Pulse

Author's Note: Shit's getting serious ;D

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Pulse**_

You seem off.

_That's because something's wrong._

She was looking at herself in the hotel mirror as she spoke, analysing how the blemishes had decreased in amount over the passing days. She was in her old street outfit – without the jacket – because it felt most comfortable to fight in. Considering she was fighting a Mishima, she figured it would be better to have less constricting clothing.

She ran her fingers through her hair nervously before turning on her heel and leaving the bathroom. The stage she was due to battle on was one within the city's core, yet hidden away amongst the grime and neon lights. She'd seen it in passing before, and it vaguely reminded her of the Korean streets, only it was slightly busier and better kept. She wasn't bothered by the location – she just wanted to get the entire thing over and done with as soon as possible.

It was as the youth exited the large hotel did she realise that Angel had been humming a tune in her head over and over again. It'd been buried deep within her subconscious, clawing at the walls, just trying to infect the rest of her mind as subtly as possible. And so, intrigued, Razer asked, _Where did you get that melody from?_

I don't know, Angel answered truthfully, sighing, But it won't leave, like the shadows I feel around us.

She shuddered a little, for she felt them too, and she then stopped walking, wondering how close they were.

Do yourself a favour, my dear… she warned, Don't turn around, and don't stop moving.

There were fleeting footsteps behind her, like the lingering sorrows of yesterday. She began to walk again to the new location, her shoulders rounded and her chin high. She wondered about many things on her journey – how her friends were, if her foe was at the arena yet, if the shadows could reach her from where she was. However, even as that particular thought danced amidst her temporarily – and it _would _be temporary, she swore it – problem-riddled mind, a stronger urge to run away as fast as possible swallowed her.

And so she did, as several more footsteps sped to try and catch up. There were hazy commands and different leading voices clashing to and fro, and when she dared to look over her shoulder for just a moment, numerous soldiers were scurrying after her. It was an unfamiliar sight in these times, but what was most alien about the scene was that they were soldiers from two clearly different factions.

She expected the Tekken Force… but she didn't expect G-Corporation's soldiers too.

Together? Angel hissed, clearly confused, Why?

Razer didn't respond. She exhaled sharply and merely continued on her way, aiming to hopefully lose them all in the Plaza. Amongst the crowd, she should easily be lost, and they hopefully would not attack amidst the innocents. Her feet pounded against the pavement, and her breath became increasingly laboured the further she travelled. Behind her, she could hear them shout and growl and hiss, but she remained focused on her task, even as she began to weave through alleyways and side streets.

She passed bricks that just stood there, and dead trees that tried to claw into heaven, seeking redemption. It was day time, but the entire feeling that the environment threw onto her was that of a dark, late afternoon – and she realised how little sun there was when she tripped over a crack in the concrete. Cursing under her breath, she scrambled to her feet and continued to run, ignoring the shouts behind her.

You cannot outrun them forever. You must stand and fight sometime!

But she would be alone, with no cover. How did Angel expect her to take on so many people? It was stupid.

She quickly turned a corner, but suddenly felt a punch go across her face. Stumbling back and blinking away the water from her eyes, Razer glared at the G-Corporation soldier who struck her. In response, she elbowed him in the stomach, winding him and causing him to double over, before passing him, not willing to be snagged by him or any of his coming accomplices.

She didn't want to be a pawn.

As she continued to run, snow began to fall in dribs and drabs. The white would lightly push against her face before either melting onto it or sliding off and continuing on its journey, but neither provided comfort for the sudden realisation. She was trying to run from the two most powerful militias in the world, and one of them was owned by her 'boyfriend'. Her _boyfriend _sent these people after her. Her _boyfriend _no longer gave a damn about her safety, and wanted her either imprisoned or dead. She'd lost whatever use she had in his eyes.

A bullet soared by, the sound dragging by her ear through space. She exhaled sharply and froze, hating that such a default instinct could eventually bring her downfall as turning to observe the scene. She'd run rather far from the hotel and was now in an isolated area, away from people to hurt or frighten or kill. She couldn't run forever, as Angel said, but here… then…

Angel expected her to take on so many people because it would eventually be the only option. It was inevitable.

Swallow your pride. Heighten your guard and hold on.

The first foolish soldier that drew close to slam the butt of the gun into her head was instantly whipped aside with a timed roundhouse kick. The helmet cracked under the pressure at the side – a welcome surprise – and his body flew through a temporarily shut down fruit stand. The second was further away, but she still charged with Hunting Hawk, before delivering another roundhouse kick to the coming third and fourth men. The fifth moved to grab her, carrying a knife. She dropped to her back, grabbed the figure above her by the throat, twisted his arm so that his weapon plunged into his throat, and threw the body over her shoulders with the aid of her leg.

It seemed they were smarter from then on, choosing to fight in groups of four rather than individually. One had snuck around behind her and held her as she was smacked in the stomach, legs, anywhere. She responded by pretending to lose her footing, thus dragging down the holder and having the others hit him in the face. She managed to worm her arms out of his grip and throw the body at the three, crushing them against a wall below the heavier man's frame.

A stinging sensation clipped her shoulder. Identifying it to immediately be a bullet, she spotted the shooter and charged, avoiding whatever other bullets came her way, and kneed him in the crotch. The weakness had him loosen his hold on his gun as he slumped forward a little, and the Greek took advantage of this, tearing the weapon from his hands, slamming him in the stomach and the side of the head with the back of it, before spinning around and firing the weapon with a determined and furious shout.

Patterns began to form in front of her, be they the silver cases flying through the sky, the sudden splatters of blood in the air, or the bodies falling like a ton of bricks. She'd seen such things before, she'd done such things before, _none _of this was new. Not even the gripping fear in her stomach and the way her throat closed when she solidified within herself that this was a fight to _survive _again. In the world she'd been sheltered from for the last year by the man who instigated these crimes, now she had to fend for herself from him.

And it felt so fucking good.

No, not the killing, or the fear, but the fact that she'd been now piled in amongst the rest of the world instead of held like a precious stone – _that _felt good. It felt good to be seen as equal in his eyes. It felt good to be deemed as… _disposable _now, because if that's how he thought about her, then certainly he did not love nor care about her anymore. What relationship would stand this, anyway? _Kazama _didn't care anymore, and if he disregarded her, then she would disregard him with the same strength.

The gun finally ran out of bullets. Although many soldiers had fallen down, there were still many standing. In frustration and retaliation and as her pulse quickened, she threw the item at the crowd of dead and living, before running at them again, picking up two nearby knives. Leaping over a smaller pile, she plunged them through the glass visors of the two men before her, forcefully twisting them, hearing them scream and took no delight in it. She pushed one off the weapon, having him collapse onto a few men behind him, before using the other as a stepping stone of sorts and repeating the initial action on another unsuspecting pair.

Every move that came to mind and every fighting instinct that grew spurred her on. Razer used everything she could, but it felt like they would just keep coming, particularly now that she was surrounded. In that adrenaline, she didn't see the danger – and then she was grabbed from behind by a soldier in green. The black and red soldiers before her tore the weapons from her hands, shouting Japanese commands for her to be subdued.

The commander grinned with amusement as she glared at him, despite the blood and the chains on her hands. She was pushed forward, and he remained there, watching the G-Corporation commander phone his leader, and taunting their new prisoner, "Every diamond loses its shine, Miss Athane. You no longer sparkle in the eyes of the World's Master."

A small smirk was returned to him, despite her thrashing to get away, "I was only ever coal to begin with."

As she was dragged away, he watched as the G-Corporation commander hung up and nodded approvingly.

Elsewhere, Kazuya was declared a victor by default, and Jin announced that Razer had withdrawn from the tournament. As Kazuya turned away from the arena in perfect sync with his estranged son, his smirk grew, and the clouds above gradually began to darken, reflecting the future to come.


	29. Call To Arms

_**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Call To Arms**_

* * *

He watched as the cat planted himself on his stomach. He couldn't help but pet him anyway.

To combat his loneliness and isolation, Baek had adopted a cat from the local animal shelter for his oldest student. He wasn't a kitten, but he certainly wasn't aged. Hwoarang guessed that the thing was about… three, maybe four years old. He was stupid, but hyper and cowardly. He was relatively independent too, like most cats he'd seen around. There were two, thick, white stripes down his upper back, and the rest of him was yellow. Clearly, he'd been held by a white family due to his name – 'Maxwell', of all things – but other than watching him run into walls or climb up all sorts of things, the Korean wasn't necessarily one hundred percent attached to him yet.

His mind just wouldn't wander from yesterday. He'd been waiting in the shadows for that match, just to make sure that she got out alive at least, but she didn't even show. Amidst the crowd who booed and called her a coward for withdrawing, he couldn't shake that feeling of dread when Jin announced on her behalf that she'd left the tournament. Whatever the reason was for leaving, maybe he could try and ask her, or eavesdrop whenever she hangs out with Lars next, or Steve.

Deciding that he should at least check things out, he picked up Maxwell and set him down on the ground, much to his annoyance. Ignoring the light hiss and the arched back, he stood and headed out for the day, hoping the sun would clear his mind for a bit, and hoping that wherever his best friend was, she'd be alright. Though, he wondered…

Those same thoughts continued to infect his very being as he explored the Plaza, seeing nobody familiar, nor the woman he'd been seeking. He couldn't help but watch as they buried further and further into his mind, almost like a bug, and with the people talking around him, with the disjointed whispers, he exhaled to try and keep calm and not get ahead of himself. He couldn't afford that in these bad times, because shoddier things could happen.

_It__'__s__ almost __like __a __deserted__ wasteland,_ he thought to himself. Even shopkeepers seemingly abandoned their stations.

And then he heard tanks.

He heard fucking _tanks _driving towards this place, an _innocent,__ public__ place,_ and he began to fear what could occur next. If there were tanks, then surely there were men, and if there were men, then surely they were armed, and if they were armed, then surely when they collided, there would be death everywhere. When this little battle that was so close to occurring was over, there would be blood stained all over the Plaza grounds, and the citizens would have to clean it up.

Hwoarang was a sitting duck in the middle of it all.

He had to get out of plain sight, because either force would've gladly killed him in the name of their master. Quickly scouting the area for his best friend one last time, he ducked out, heading towards the more forest-y part of the place, the one further away from the beach. Maybe she was hanging out there, where Raven's old base from a year ago used to be. He wondered if that was still there too, or if it had been removed.

He ran and called her name above the shouting and the noise, but there was no response (and the base from the last tournament had been removed). He ran to another part of Tokyo's district, one that he knew she had been around before, and despite calling for her, she didn't respond. He contemplated calling her cellphone, but he wondered if it had been taken away, or if his number had been blocked. He frowned at the thought.

The Korean spent at least two and a half hours searching for her and calling for her. His voice was becoming scratchy and hoarse, and he had since snuck around the fight in silence, hearing people die, call for back up and various things explode. He was running out of ideas and places to look, and in his panic, he decided that heading to the Mishima mansion was the best place to go, despite the security.

It was about a fifteen to twenty minute run, and as he moved, he encountered more foes. He saw Nina and Anna squaring off with smaller squadrons of their own. He saw a soldier holding onto a home's white fence, bleeding all over it, staring at the ground as the lights faded. He saw fire. He saw civilians running. He saw many things he never thought he would witness here, and as he watched and evaded, looking for her, he realised that the cold war was well and truly over.

The call to arms had been initiated. The battle for the world had begun.

The Mishima Mansion was protected as though it were a holy land. Hwoarang cursed lightly under his breath before attempting to sneak around and at least get a good look inside. One sleepy soldier noticed him and was about to shout before he realised that he was not trying to blow up the place and was looking for someone. The soldier instead shook his head, silently informing the man that she was not here, mouthed 'sorry', before refocusing on guarding the vicinity.

He had no idea what to do now. It was then that he noticed his throat was closing up and his eyes were burning.

_At the end of the world, I can't find you._

And it hurt.

The Korean looked back out onto the street, watching the fights rage on. He saw more families fleeing, screaming and cursing only one name. As he fled the scene, ignoring Nina shout at her men to try and pick him off, he decided that if he could not locate Razer, then the next place to be, for now, would be with what he had left of his family.

* * *

Fire was raging. Smoke was soaring. Jin was smirking.

Helicopters were coming in now, each carrying many more soldiers to fight the war on the ground. He did not want to bomb the place outright just yet – he wanted to make Kazuya's forces suffer before moving on to the rest of the world. The process was only beginning, and he had to play it tactically before going berserk on those poor, insufferable and stupid humans.

He snapped his fingers, requesting the chained woman to be brought to his side. Within moments, Razer was looking down at the spectacle below her from the Gargoyle's Perch. The location was buried deep into the side of a mountain, looking over the city, and it was undetectable to the naked eye. She wondered why Kazuya had not found this place yet, or if he even had knowledge of it at all. The entire interior was so suited to Jin's – Devil's sick desires.

"Isn't it grand?" he inquired, gesturing to the spectacle, "It has started."

There was a light buzzing in his ear, informing him that a particular section had been captured. He chuckled lightly before squinting, trying to watch the scene closer. He wished he were closer to the ground and the action so he could hear the people scream, cry and die. He wished he was in the thick of the action, delivering the punches and feeling the flesh, and maybe even bones give way with every precise strike. He wanted to be there, but he had to remain here, dictating the forces.

Jin observed the Greek from the corner of his eye for a few moments. Although her arms and legs were bound, her mouth was still in a firm line, as though she was determined not to crack under these events. Her eyes were tired and dull, but she was still trying. Her hair was dishevelled much like her clothes, and despite all that, he could still see disgust at the sight buried beneath her weariness and uncertainty.

He smirked before looking down again, lifting his chin, "I wonder if he is looking for you."

No response.

Determined to get a rise out of her, he tried again, "I wonder if he is _dead._"

"There is still fire," she remarked as monotonously as possible, referring to what she felt inside.

"Of course there is," he growled, shifting the conversation whilst he pointed at the flames engulfing the place. He looked at her again, noting how she was indeed paying attention, "They are down there. They are destroying everything in sight, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. _Nobody_can do anything about it! I am the master of _all._

"These are not the only attacks occurring, my dear. In the same instance that my forces here in Tokyo mobilised, my forces situated in Seoul, Mexico City, New York City, Mumbai, Jakarta, Shanghai and other densely populated locations unleashed hell. The world was already going through a large time of grief and sadness, and now it is only going to get worse…" he rubbed his chin and looked to her thoughtfully, "Tell me, what do you think will happen from here on in? I am inflicting an apocalypse… does this mean that I will at least have a new challenge?"

She did not respond. She didn't want to even _think _about what could occur next.

Her choice to provide silence did not bode well with him. She dared a glance from the corner of her eyes, noting how his eyes were red and how his fingers were morphing, and then he smirked. Jin turned to look at her as well, and behind his pupils, she was certain that the screws in his mind had finally fallen all the way out – and then she berated herself for thinking that somewhere, somehow, she could have ever saved him then or now, "I asked you a question, and you did not answer me…"

Breathe.

Darkness.


	30. Sirens

Author's Note: Guys, is it just me, or is FFN removing the spaces on italic'd, underlined and bolded sentences in doc manager? Its pretty annoying to correct, _especially _when it decides to get on its high horse and continue to recorrect it _for _me. I WANT TO HAVE MY SENTENCE BOLD AND HAVE ONE ITALIC WORD IN IT, FFN; QUIT BITCHING.

* * *

_**Chapter Thirty: Sirens **_

The sirens screamed long into the night.

_Your__ presence__ is __requested __at __the __Gargoyle's __Perch.  
__The __event __is __for __the __King __Of __Iron __Fist __Semi __Final __Match.  
__Come__ alone._

Baek furrowed his eyebrows as he placed the letter back into the envelope, and then back onto the table. He paused for a moment, wondering if he had encountered it askew initially, and decided to tilt it, just in case. The sudden gust of wind from the open window had him shift his attention to the rain outside, and with a grim face, he prayed that his student would be alright, because he found it odd that such a match would not be televised. Even if it was, he doubted that he'd be any safer considering the fires that would decorate the sky in an eerie, smoke-filled red.

His head quickly span over his shoulder when he heard the front door slam open and closed hurriedly. Picking up Maxwell from his place on the chest of drawers and scratching his ears, Baek exited Hwoarang's room and saw Seong-Hada standing there, his face telling the entire story. His work clothes were a little singed, he had his small bag in both of his hands in addition to his chef's hat, and he was looking down, breathing heavily as though he had run all the way home, frightened.

"**What**** happened?****"** Baek asked, his curiosity disguised in a controlled monotone.

He scurried by, dropping the items he had been holding onto the floor by the kitchen table. Water was immediately required - he had to try and calm his nerves, even as he spoke to his master, his voice becoming tangled up with every word that left him, "**There ****is ****no ****more ****place ****for ****me**** to ****work.**** It**** was**** b-bombed**** half ****an**** hour**** before ****I ****arrived... ****and**** everybody**** inside**** was**** dead.**** My**** boss, ****my**** co-workers,**** and**** my**** customers,**** all**** now ****black ****shells**** of**** their ****f-former**** selves.**** I**** couldn't**** find**** anyone**** alive.**"

A brief flash of concern crossed his features, but he was not surprised. Jin's 'random' targets did not always feel so random, and he knew their every move. If Seong-Hada had not woken up late, and if the strike was well and truly planned, he'd be dead, and there would be more cause for Hwoarang to come and attack him. It felt like his oldest student was being baited - first a few locations near his work, then a store that he liked, maybe a few other places here and there, and now the workplace of one of his closest friends.

Baek did not know a lot about demons or what Jin housed, but he knew that surely the creature was behind all of it; and should Jin ever overthrow the cruel reign and maintain his sanity, he would try to make everything right. He hoped.

* * *

The tower was huge.

Encased entirely in black marble, it briefly reminded Hwoarang of a middle age castle tower, particularly in the intricacies of its design. He saw gunmen standing at various levels, all glaring at him and refraining from firing. They knew that they were not to attack - they knew why he was here, and that he'd been _invited_ rather than intruding.

He came alone, as requested - he wouldn't want to have Baek, Seong-Hada, Miharu, Steve or any of his other friends hurt in this. He hadn't heard from those outside of his family for a while, sparing the occasional text from Miharu that told him that she was okay, but miserable. One of the recent bombings had affected her younger brother, who was now in hospital. He went to visit the kid, because he liked the kid and remembered him well from when he was going out with her. The poor guy was in an awful condition with bandages all over his body, but he brought him a toy car anyway to play with, regardless of the fact that the kid was still unconscious and his older sister was watching over him like a hawk.

It was Lars who greeted him on the ground floor with a stiff expression. There were two soldiers on either side of him, their own expressions disguised by metal casing. He stepped aside and allowed his friend to enter, leading him up spiral staircases and now a glass lift, and Hwoarang couldn't hide the look of disgust when he saw what Tokyo had become. He wondered if the fires were the same in his beloved Seoul, or in any other part of the world. An indistinguishable sound bubbled from the back of his throat when he saw a robot the size of a house or two wipe out three skyscrapers with one, blue laser; and he saw Alisa hovering nearby, giving instructions to the smaller ground units.

"That is Lord Jin's latest robotic design, named NANCY-MI847J. It is designed to annihilate enemy forces single-handedly. It is equipped with lasers, machine guns, and it is able to fly across short distances without malfunctioning," the words were leaving him with ease, as though he'd been trained to respond with the statement, but he felt so sick inside by having to give his nephew such an unfitting title. His stomach twisted further when the sirens increased in volume, "It is already in mass production for future missions."

As the Swede expected, his fellow fighter said nothing.

The moments that soon followed were just as quiet until the two remaining soldiers - and Hwoarang wondered when the other two had returned to guarding duties - pushed open the final double doors with as much strength as they were able to muster. He felt a lump in his throat, or his heart, or something similar - when the room was finally visible to his sienna eyes. He saw statues of clawed hands holding turquoise globes. He saw blue candles flickering absent-mindedly. He saw Tokyo's turmoil rise through large, glass windows. He saw a throne, with his nemesis seated quite comfortably in it with Kazuya on his left in a white suit.

He forced himself not to act when he saw Razer on his right, bruised and bleeding, bound by chains that were too tight for her wrists, held by a soldier.

"Welcome," Jin stated, a smirk already blooming on his features as he gestured to the room with a hand. The silence was maintained, even as Jin sent away the remaining soldiers who had accompanied Lars' ascent, and asked how his day was. The smirk vanished upon the lack of response, and, bored, glanced at Kazuya for a brief moment. Following this, he spoke once more, "Alexandersson, come stand beside your blood brother."

The Korean watched as his friend moved, going to stand beside yet another man he hated. Without him by his side, he knew that he was most definitely alone again without cover. He felt wind brush by him as the doors were slammed shut, and its cold edge drifted further into the room. All eyes were on him, and it felt awkward. He felt awkward _being _here, and angry, and just so fucking sick of everything.

"You were summoned here," Jin began, resting his chin on his fist, "for your semi final. After some reshuffling, your opponent has been decided - you are to battle my father, Kazuya. Should you win, you must face me in the immediate grand final," he smirked at the flicker of annoyance that crossed the other man's features, "Is that not you want? A chance for a pathetic rematch, because you are too stubborn to drop a grudge from your teenage years?"

He begged himself not to react, because he knew why Jin was doing this. He was trying to set him off.

"A chance to win what you know you would have lost in that fight in the streets, because we both know that despite your speed, I am stronger than you," he leant back and shuffled about a bit, carefully gauging him for a viable reaction, or for an emotion that dared to cross into his sienna eyes, "A chance to prove yourself to the world, fairly, without forfeiting the match you'd longed for because you decided it was a good idea to go and get yourself killed. A chance to try and _reclaim_ what I _stole_ from you?"

He wondered if his fists were shaking, but he didn't dare to look. He felt tense.

Jin's eyes flickered red for a brief moment as he furrowed his eyebrows. He stood from his chair and descended the small set of stairs before his throne, coming to stand before the man. He growled, "_What_ will it take to get a reaction out of you? A phrase?" he began to walk back to his throne, his trench coat following, and he thought he heard an attempt at a steady exhale behind him, "A piece of knowledge? Perhaps an –"

Razer suddenly murmured, a deep annoyance stirring her to do so, "Stop it."

Without bothering to look at her, he threw the back of his hand across her face, ignoring the cry and the stumble, but not the small growl. Smirking, he turned to look at Hwoarang again, where the origin of the sound was, and spoke, "So I have to hit her to get a reaction out of you? That is not a problem at all…" He sat on the throne and crossed one leg over the other, feeling the real Jin pull at him inside, and he wanted to stomp on him and tell him that those old feelings were ugly and wrong, and that he was a monster and filthy, "…but I can do that any time I please."

Following this, Kazuya stepped forward, unfolding his arms, "I think it is time we end the pleasantries."

The room was soon swallowed by a bright shine of purple, and once it subsided and Jin called for the fight to commence, Hwoarang felt true fear grip him for the first time in two years as he stared at Devil Kazuya. The beast immediately lunged at him, and as he sidestepped the attack, he knew that by the end of this fight, neither man – or beast – would be left standing.

Soon enough, Devil Kazuya chuckled, throwing his arms out either side of him. An intimidating air soon swept through the room, causing clothes to rustle and chains to shudder. Hwoarang did not dare to shift his gaze, because he knew that the situation could very quickly be manipulated against him. His opponent began to encircle him, arms still outstretched as he spoke, It is wonderful to feel the ground beneath _my_ feet once more…

He stopped moving, facing the redhead directly, and lowered his arms, tilting his head. A crooked smile formed as he began to speak again, Is something the matter? You seem to have lost the fires that fan your determination – or have they only been weakened? If they have, then_ why _did they weaken? Lack of motivation or are you simply too depressed to care?

_Gotta be patient. Can't respond. No matter how much I wanna punch his fuckin' face in._

Maybe you feel too much like that lonely little boy again.

There was an automatic, involuntary and sharp exhalation.

Devil Kazuya smirked, a button found, Poor boy, alone in your room without your pillars to hold up the remnants of your sanity. I wonder how far below the rubble you are buried. I wonder how cold your heart has become again. Will it even warm up anymore? Or are you too comfortable in your little rut again? Too afraid to see the world around you for what it has become?

He closed his eyes. The voice had to be blocked out of his mind, so he began to listen to the sirens in the distance. The cries of the world, the cries for help, and how they'd lost all hope. How they'd lost friends, family, and their own lives. He quietly wished that the sirens were the voices of the creatures he'd heard of in Greek mythology instead of the screaming ones he could hear. At least the voices would've been pretty instead of draining.

Or are you too afraid to see... your world... and what it has become?

"That's enough," Hwoarang finally growled, falling into stance.

Of course, he'd been so wrapped up in attempting to distract himself that he didn't see himself for how he was currently. His lips were pressed firmly together in an unyielding line, his fists were tightly clenched – and if he took the time to look, he would've seen how white his fingers were – and he didn't realise that his only thought was to win this fight so he could punch Jin in the face. He was very angry.

So you are ready, Devil Kazuya murmured, thereafter sliding into his own stance. He watched the hidden emotions dancing behind his opponent's eyes, too amused to be able to distinguish them from one another and give them the names that they deserved. He knew that any push in any direction would set the Korean off to attack without a second thought, so that his consciousness was literally just a stream of violence.

That was necessary and wanted.

Show me your strength. Show me your power. Show me what it means to have a reason to fight!

Closer to the edge…

Show me the rage of your love!

With a shout and without a second thought, Hwoarang lunged, his mind clouded over.


	31. Dive Right In

Author's Note: I'm not gonna lie. I LOVED writing this chapter.

* * *

_**Chapter Thirty-One: Dive Right In **_

The first kick reminded Devil Kazuya of a whip across the face. He raised his arms in time to block the second one with a growl. He threw out an elbow, watching it catch at his shoulder, before coming towards him with his Rising Sun kick, the last of which hit Hwoarang square in the jaw. The force of the strike had him turn, back now facing him, and immediately, there were punches, the last of which threw him to the ground.

Quickly rising to his feet, he dodged out of the way of an incoming running kick, countering with Hot Feet and then a spinning axe kick. He then took to strings – low high mid low mid mid mid high low mid high high mid – before his arm was grabbed, forcing him to cease movement. There was then a purple leg smashing across the right side of his face, and then the left, and then he was on the ground again. Devil Kazuya came to stomp on him again, and so, hurriedly, he rolled out of the way and hit him twice with his right leg as he rose.

The attacks were blocked, and soon, Devil Kazuya was producing a steady string of attacks, not willing to let the redhead get the upper hand in any way. With a sneer, he launched his elbow into the Korean's jaw, the momentum causing him to spin away and stumble. He then put both of his hands together and slammed them into his back, chuckling in delight at the shaky, somewhat silent cry that followed.

Growling, Hwoarang stood again and lunged, throwing his right foot out into the opponent's face. From there, he span, his left leg tracking to the side and sending Devil Kazuya to the ground. He followed up by sliding into Left Flamingo Stance and kicking low, his shoe scuffing along the marble floor as he did so. The tip of his shoe hit him in the stomach, and thereafter, he skittered out of the way, not wanting to be caught with any follow up attacks.

Devil Kazuya propelled himself into the air, watching his opponent hesitantly take a few steps back in caution. His eyes narrowed before firing a yellow laser from his forehead, watching it carve the floor and the wall. The dust soon began to settle, and he found Hwoarang standing to his right, still wondering how to approach the situation.

Growling, he flew towards him and seized him by the throat, dragging him back into a noticeable height in the air. He could feel fingernails tearing at his skin in an attempt to pry the hand off of him – he needed to breathe, after all – but he was still met with silence from the man. It was here he laughed – he was trying to be _brave._ He was trying to be _brave_ in the face of the devil, at the end of all things, without the world he knew around him and without help. _Really_ now?

Stop trying to be brave, Devil Kazuya drawled, pupils shrinking, You're no hero.

Swiftly, the 22-year-old was hurled to the ground. The force of the impact was taken to his left shoulder, and although he felt very dizzy when he stood afterward, he still slid into stance and moved towards him. He knew the height wouldn't kill him, but he knew it'd still hurt – he wondered if he could touch his shoulder, but he chose not to.

Instead, Hwoarang watched as the opponent landed again and continued to attack – left, right, right, low sweep, attempted grab, and so on – and he felt helpless amidst it all, being left only to defend against a monster that threatened to kill him and every other human on this earth due to his sheer selfishness and immeasurable greed.

And apparently, _he_ was the world's best hope.

How was it possible to have faith in _himself _against a demon? Where was his hope?

And then there was a disconcerting female noise behind him, and he sprang to life again. He threw punches, kicks, he even attempted to break one of Devil Kazuya's limbs, having his arm in a lock. Soon enough, he was kicked in the back, and he felt claws dig into his skin – he rolled off and from there, Devil Kazuya seized him and punched him across the face, humming lowly during the violence. He punched him again across the same side, thereafter releasing his hold and kicking him at the side of his knee, watching as it buckled below the hit.

When he's punched in the head in return, Devil Kazuya hisses and throws out his right arm, watching as claws diagonally rip his shirt and flesh apart. Blood gently begins to ooze from the cracks, and a small sense of victory bubbles up inside of him as he growled, Heroes are not _scum._

And then there was searing pain down his left side. He forced himself to look, noting how there was a dagger being dragged from just under his armpit down to his hip. His eyes followed the sculpted arm back to its origin, noting how Hwoarang's eyes seemed hollow and void, but how the rest of his face conveyed whatever emotions there should've been – unusual rage, unyielding determination and an amused smirk.

Roaring with an unusually feral-like tone, Devil Kazuya launcher another beam, causing Hwoarang to crouch and take another swipe at the purple body with his knife. There was now another cut up his leg, and, enraged, he began to throw everything he had at him again, deeming a break unnecessary. He wasn't going to lose to some… some…

- Twin Stature Smash. Twin Pistons. Shadow Fist. Soul Thrust. Flash Kick. Lion Slayer -

…well, he didn't even have a word he could throw onto the end of that sentence. He was too damn angry to care. He was going to win this with dignity and style and grace. He wanted Hwoarang to fear him again like the last tournament – he missed that beautiful, beautiful fear. Fear from the world was not enough – it had to be from _him,_ the one who had a small chance.

_Had._

Not has. _Had. _Always _had. __Unsuccessful._

Devil Kazuya grabbed Hwoarang by the head, impaling his skull on his knee. At the same time, he ripped the knife from his hands and hurled it out a nearby open window. He could feel the sting on his own knee as it struck against the other man's forehead, and he watched as he stumbled back, dropping the knife, a hand to his head. He quickly seized the weapon and lunged, hoping to slit his throat – but despite his disorientated state, the Korean managed to roll out of the way and direct his shoe's spur across Devil Kazuya's calf muscle. The strike caused his dagger to be dropped, and so, as he moved to stand, he took it back, needing it for defence.

Now standing also despite his limp, Devil Kazuya threw out two, fast right punches and then a left. The first two attacks weren't blocked, though the last one was. He then did a hell sweep, following it up with an electrified, left hook. He moved closer afterwards and slammed his elbow into Hwoarang's shoulder; he was countered with two kicks to his right and one to his left.

There were more kicks – more perfectly aimed kicks, and strong ones, and feints and then a strong one across Devil Kazuya's jaw. He threw more fists and more feet, exhaling sharply when a particular attack caused his opponent to lean forward into a knee strike – and at the end of his little bout, he threw in a Jackknife throw at the end, causing him to fly to the other end of the arena.

Hwoarang began to run towards his opponent, his lungs burning for air – and just as he moved to leap into the air and do a running kick, he was stopped by an inner force – an inner voice – and it was not his voice, but another's, and it was most unwelcome.

Don't be so cruel. Let your opponent stand up and face you like a man!

Jin.

He suddenly couldn't see, and his head was pounding. All he could see was black, and a creature slithering forward from the background. It was a snake. It was a black snake with blood red eyes, and strong fangs with blood dripping down the corners of them – a representation of Jin, because he could _feel_ the same energy. The snake pounced, and in real-world reaction to it, Hwoarang bounded back a large step, thereafter exhaling sharply when the snake seemingly swallowed his vision whole.

And he was going down the pathway – tunnel – alone, falling, forsaken and _frightened__ –_

Would this be –

They were in his mind again. Deep in the inner workings of his mind, and the roof is there, crumbled, with Baek's halves holding him up and dust everywhere else. But he could feel Devil Jin's quiet rage when he noticed that Razer's pillar was still there, and that despite what she had been made to do to him, he did not break under the pain, uncertainty and helplessness. That he still remained strong, and that despite it all, he didn't lose his mind as much as he'd hoped.

Unbroken. Unchanged. _The__ same._

There was a hiss as he spoke, I will _break __you _in _half._

In the physical world, Hwoarang felt a kick to his cut, and then elbows dig into his back as he dropped to the floor. In his mind, Devil Jin was taking a low, hard swipe at his legs, which was successful, leaving him in a half-sitting, half-standing state. In such a state like this – being attacked on two fronts, two sides, and being able to only pick and defend against one – Hwoarang knew he was going to lose now. And he couldn't voice against the intrusion because it was Kazama's world, Kazama's laws, and even if it was illegal, Kazama would get away with it like the Tyrant he was.

His body… could heal again. But his mind… Minds are a lot harder to repair.

Devil Kazuya came at him again with his Twin Pistons attack, which was blocked – but Hwoarang could feel Devil Jin nagging at him in the back of his mind. There was a dull, painful thumping that proved to be quite distracting, even as he countered with a strong roundhouse kick. The impact sent the demon to the ground, and he wasted no time in closing his eyes – he had to see this enemy.

Now in his mind, he could see Devil Jin ripping and attacking everything he could find – memories, stamina, the lot. He immediately charged, smashing his fist against the square jaw – and Devil Jin countered with a hell sweep, the last of which caused him to bounce off of the ground. An electric punch followed, and he _laughed. _A deep, throaty, _amused,__ psychotic _laugh.

Hwoarang rolled and conducted Tsunami Kicks. He then dashed forward, threw out two left punches and feigned a low left kick before being struck with the tips of demonic, pointy claws. He was then grabbed and slammed onto an unyielding knee, being thrown aside thereafter.

What is this? Devil Jin seethed, gesturing to the mirrors and pictures behind him, This is _pathetic. _You call this 'love'? It is not love, it is _obsession._

There was a kick to the chest, and Hwoarang felt the wind leave him – but it was a physical strike, for Devil Jin had nod moved. Hurriedly opening his eyes, he watched as Devil Kazuya delivered an electric strike, sending him into the air. A punch, knee and a second punch then came, followed by an elbow. Another hell sweep and hook punch connected with his form – and then there was more nagging, itching, roaring, and_ uncomfortableness _in the back of his mind.

The Blood Talon spat blood onto the ground and jutted out his leg, tripping Devil Kazuya. Crescent moon kick followed, and then with a shout he forced his opponent to the other side of the room – and then he quickly closed his eyes –

Devil Jin laughed again, sidestepping a coming flashing trident attack. His left fist soared into his chin. He then feigned a hellsweep, instead opting for a grab. With the Korean's wrist tightly locked in his hand, he tugged forcefully, watching with a quiet glee as he fell.

Seven years is a bit long to be waiting, don't you think? Devil Jin drawled, You should've let go by now – she_ belongs _to me. She_ chose_ me over _you__ – _to love and stand beside no matter what.

Hwoarang hurriedly stood to his feet and dashed forward, hoping to strike his foe in the chest and then the head – however, in his dazed sluggishness, he did not predict an attack. There was a harsh hit to his midsection, and then he could feel his skin be sliced open on his right bicep.

He was then pinned against a wall – a mirror-wall, really, with moving pictures behind him – and he could feel it crack against his spine. Devil Jin's claws were digging into his flesh, dragging further downward until the entire limb began to shudder and shake. He felt tears due to the pain, and he felt a rushing wind by his ear as a neighbouring mirror-wall was shattered into nothing by a punch.

God will set you up to _bleed,_ Devil Jin murmured against his ear, watching the liquid slide down his cheeks as he pressed harder into the arm, To tear you _open._

He wasn't gonna give up.

Devil Jin felt two things in quick succession. The first was an elbow to the stomach, and the second was an elbow to the face. He stumbled back, relinquishing his hold on the man's arm and roaring, and Hwoarang quickly opened his eyes when he heard her call for him and then yelp.

Just in time, too; and he sidestepped a lightning screw uppercut attack from his physical enemy. To counter, he slid into Left Flamingo Stance and threw out a spinning low, tripping up Devil Kazuya. From there, he caught the airborne body with a light kick, then a jab, and then a spinning left axe kick – and he suddenly had a horrific headache again.

He raised one arm to wipe away his tears from earlier, and before he could place a hand on his head to try and stop the throbbing, Hwoarang noted blood. He swiftly swiped at his eye with the tips of his fingers and noticed it again – part of his nightmares… were now real. Did this mean the other pieces would soon join?

Avoiding a grab from Devil Kazuya, he seized him by the horn and hurled him into one of the nearby pillars, closing his eyes thereafter despite the nausea and general dizziness he was feeling. He was in his mind again, and Devil Jin was causing more havoc. All he could hear was laughter – laughter at his childhood, at his teenage years, and at the losses he suffered during those times.

He was laughing at and hitting the pillars. At his _Mother.__ Father. __Baek .__Razer__ – _and his weakness.

Gifted with renewed vigour, he charged, tackling the monster to the ground, continuously punching him in the face. When the coming fifth strike was parried, he was thrown off and cut across the face – and the clawed hand was coming back, aiming for his throat, aiming to kill –

And then, a red glove came and punched Devil Jin in the face. Hwoarang hurriedly stood to his feed, needing to see the helper to confirm the suspicion in his mind. And when he saw the flamed gi pants and stupid hairstyle…

Jin threw out a harsh low kick, causing his demonic self to buckle. Savage Sword followed, and when Hwoarang realised that his mind, for now, was being covered and protected, he opened his eyes and caught the coming fists, pushing Devil Kazuya away thereafter. Three air raid strikes followed, each hitting his foe, and then a left kick and two right ones. He could do this… He could do this!

Fool, Devil Kazuya hummed, seizing the 22-year-old by the collar of his vest, head-butting him. He dropped him and slammed a low kick against the fallen body, elbowing him in the side thereafter as he attempted to stand. Deterred, Hwoarang sloppily dodged another knee and punch combo.

Suddenly coming up with an idea, he closed one eye and kept the other open. His vision was a mixture of both worlds, and as unsettling as it was, he hoped that it would make it a little easier for him. He could see the two Jin's, and he could see Devil Kazuya.

Willing his mental self to lumber over and strike Devil Jin in the back, he got physical self to block the coming punch chains, grabbing the fighter by the wrist and conducting his dead end throw. Devil Jin hissed at the onslaught of strikes, and it was as Hwoarang looked behind them did he notice a portal to another place. Somewhere to stash the younger demon.

Devil Kazuya fired a laser beam, which he ducked underneath, before slamming his forearm deep into the Korean's side. He struck him again with his fist, and growled when his kicks were blocked. There was a stutter in the man's movements and a harsh push to his forehead – clearly, his son was doing his job.

Cheeks smeared in blood, Hwoarang closed his other eye – Kazama was being overpowered by his other half. He grabbed Devil Jin by the shoulder to conduct a throw, but the beast wriggled out of his grasp and countered with a sharp foot strike to the chin, propelling him backwards. The ground was harsh, and it made his head throb more so.

Infuriated by the events, Devil Jin's fist soared to his human's self's chest, and he watched as the body shuddered before dropping to the ground in a foetal position. From there, he faded away, murmuring indistinguishable things; and Devil Jin roared again, dragging his bleeding self back to the portal, from where he came.

The real-world fight was forgotten, even as the punches came and were felt. Every hit caused the Blood Talon to slow his already sluggish pace towards the portal, and he could only get so close before he felt his arm get tangled up in an extremely uncomfortable and worrisome position.

From his place a few feet away from the opening, Hwoarang was horrified by what he saw inside – it was what remained of Jin's mind. It was what had been destroyed, reshaped and then destroyed again and again and again.

He saw cobwebs, mostly. Intricate in their thickness, they held every corner. He saw small, occasional wisps of blue fire, temporarily accentuating the shattered mirrors around a curled-up form – all but three, in which he saw Jun, Xiaoyu and Razer, as though they were the last things keeping him mentally alive. The neighbouring shards were around one – two people – and one's Devil Jin, because he could see the shadowy outline of his wings, and he could see the fists and hear the Japanese cursing.

The form on the ground was Jin, he noticed, when a large blue flame hovered nearby. The man was chained, gagged, curled, trembling and bruised, looking directly at the Korean. But what frightened him the most were the bloody tears that were falling – just like his had been.

And then pity sharply spiked within him just as he managed to slide his arm out from the physical lock. Mentally, Devil Jin turned, growling at the spy, and then he swiped his arm downward, causing the portal to diffuse, preventing entry into the world ruler's psychotic mind.

Tears of the broken - my_ slaves._

There was a cracking sound in his back, and Hwoarang forced himself to open his eyes, his mind now well and truly safe. He shouted out when Devil Kazuya stomped on him again, and he tried to reach out and grab the purple leg, hoping to pull and throw him off balance. But to no avail. Devil Kazuya grabbed him by the vest, smirking and licking his fangs in amusement. With one last mighty hurl, he tossed the man across the room, hearing him grunt in discomfort as he landed and slid over the marble floor, laying there.

A visibly disturbed and mad Jin then raised a hand as Kazuya began to return to his human form. A smirk, a chuckle and then his voice echoed through the Gargoyle's Perch, bringing dread along with it.

"Defeated," he said to Hwoarang. He then looked to Kazuya with a knowing expression, "Victorious."

Silence clung to the room.

_No, _he hissed to himself, taking a glimpse at his reason for fighting.

He tried to stand to his feet again, even though he knew in his heart that he'd lost to Kazuya for a second time. Sweat dripped down his brow, irritating the youth further. When his arms almost gave way beneath him, he realised that he couldn't challenge him again, and rested on one knee, giving a slight sob; and looked to his left again, to the person whom he failed.

His distraction cost him. Heaving his fist back, Kazuya launched a fierce punch, the studs of his red gloves grazing the Korean's cheek, causing the skin to rip open in some areas. He gritted his teeth and turned his head, looking at the perpetrator with a glare; but he refused to strike him again, because he already knew that he had lost, and he wouldn't humiliate himself further, let alone end up indirectly injuring the chained Razer.

"Pitiful," Kazuya spat, turning away. He looked to his son, before turning to the large, open corridor, which was on the opposite side of the entry. It was guarded by dark, marble gargoyles. He stood in the archway, awaiting Jin and his prisoner.

Jin rose from his throne and pulled harshly on Razer's chains, causing her to trip over her own feet slightly from her standing position. Once she managed to stabilise herself, she was pulled again, this time from the chains holding her arms and throat. She choked on the force of it, and started pulling her arms away, trying to escape, even though she knew it was feeble; but she continued regardless, because she would not give in.

The Japanese man continued onwards, yelling at his girlfriend in his mind, having her submit into check. The verbal whimper was proof enough for that, and he smirked. He finally reached his Father. Standing beside him, he looked over his shoulder to where Lars and the lowly Tekken soldier still stood. They began to move, now standing on either side of the beaten fighter.

Jin sneered, "Kill him."

With his order, Lars drew his gun, and the other Tekken soldier grabbed Hwoarang from behind, subduing him. Kazama followed Kazuya, leading away a screaming Razer, who was channelling all of her words to Lars, hoping to help the Blood Talon, who was equally angered by the sudden order – but it wasn't unexpected to him, "No! Don't! Don't kill him, he is not at fault! What are you doing? _Lars!_"

The Tekken soldier forced Hwoarang onto his knees, smirking underneath his helmet. He was unaware of the piercing gaze of the two other men in the room, one of which was aimed at him, and the other at the Zaibatsu's prisoner, who was still screaming and trying to get away from the two Japanese men. His expression was almost unreadable, most of his energy and thoughts being channelled through his eyes alone, and for one person only.

She tugged extra hard at one point, and it felt as though the chains on her wrists would break her bones, "_Hwoarang!_"

He was soon out of sight, as she was led down a dark tunnel. The remnants of light above faded away.

Lars strolled from his position at the entrance, and stood before the man on his knees. With an expressionless face, he cocked the gun at the redhead, taking aim, hoping to have the measly bullet soar through the direct centre of his forehead. Those shots were always the best. They killed instantly, no matter what; and it was quick and painless for the one who was going to be killed.

Hwoarang started to struggle against the Tekken soldier, speaking to Lars, his voice increasing in volume as every word left him, "You knew! You knew about this, for all of this time! If you cared like the friend you claimed to be, you would've helped her and fucking released her from those chains and got her the fuck away from that fucking _psychopath!__ You __knew!_"

The shot was fired.

Razer screamed from her place in the tunnel, having heard it, and assumed that it was for the worst.

Smoke drifted from the barrel of the gun, aimlessly ascending into the air. The Korean's sienna eyes were wide open, and he was shaking from the sound and from how close to death he had come for a second time. He felt the Tekken soldier behind him fall to the ground, completely lifeless. He looked over his shoulder, he had to be sure it was real; and when he saw the bullet hole in the helmet, and the blood oozing from it, he breathed out and stood to his feet, realising that he had been spared.

Lars put the gun back into its holster. He fished around in his pocket for a moment, finding the metal item, and walked towards Hwoarang, who was just standing there, dumbstruck. Smirking slightly, he placed the key in his loose hand, nodding slightly when he clenched it. He continued on his way, heading to the entry, his black cloak sweeping along the marble floors.

And then he stopped, still looking ahead of him, and said, "I was always on your side."

Absorbing the information and his new task, the 22-year-old ran towards the tunnel.


	32. Crash

Author's Note: Apologies to my anonymous reviewers but I've had to disable anonymous reviewing for a while. There's been an incident, so this precaution is necessary for the time being. And Blunt Razer, please don't feel that I was being sarcastic in my responses to you or that you were the reason for disabling anonymous reviews (you're not, trust me!) - I _really_ do appreciate your feedback, its given me a lot to think about for future stories. Its rare that I get proper constructive feedback, so even though it was negative, I was really thrilled to see constructive criticism! I doubt you'll enjoy this chapter, but to everybody else who does enjoy this, well, yeah, enjoy.

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_**Chapter Thirty-Two: Crash**_

There were two choices – left and right. The left was well-lit and Hwoarang could make our stairs curving in descent. The right was far darker, and he couldn't make out much other than the first few feet being relatively flat.

He hadn't seen which way the devilish duo went, but if his thoughts were worth anything, they would've gone down the left side. It was easier to see after all – it made sense. It was possible that it'd be guarded too. The right passage would be the better, more undetected option for him.

He began to jog down the chosen passageway, running a hand along the left wall to keep track of his way. He could feel rocks and pebbles scatter along the ground as his feet scuffed over them, and he noted how infrequently and weakly blue flames flickered on their candle sticks on the walls, making it difficult to see down the corridor.

There was a low rumble echoing and pushing through the area, causing the Korean to worry about what could be on the other side. Distracted by the sound, he didn't notice the pathway suddenly stop, resulting in a drop off of a ledge. Hissing in annoyance and pain, he stood back up, limbs aching, and dirt was mixing in with his open wounds.

But then, he could feel things – small, crawling things journeying over his skin. It felt like an itch, or paranoia, or many small legs, or –

_I need to see. I gotta see!_

Scrambling further down the corridor, he searched for the next available blue candle he could find, rapidly slapping the feeling away from his arms and legs where he could. It was just so uncomfortable… So uncomfortable, so unsettling, and so unwanted.

Once he got close enough, he looked down on himself and jumped, seeing a few _scarabs_here and there, crawling all over his form. He hurriedly swiped them away with a grunt, hands sweeping over his clothes and skin. This was something that he certainly didn't need, like or want.

Satisfied that the scarabs were gone, Hwoarang continued down, now careful of where he placed his feet. There were stairs now, all varying in height. The walls were feeling rougher and rougher as he progressed, and he was beginning to hear chanting. It was unsettling, really, but it was more welcome than the new low rumble he just heard once again.

The twists and sharp turns in the corridor were beginning to annoy him. For every turn, the stairs became steeper, to the point where he was beginning to have to jump down. He could hear the scarabs due to the increasing scratching noise, and a hiss could be heard. He began to worry.

Picking up the pace, Hwoarang sped down the path. He soon heard mourning, identifying it to be Razer. He was close. He could get those chains off and then run away from this place, leave and find somewhere where everything would be alright.

There were a few puddles around if the splashing beneath his feet were anything to go by. The sobbing was louder, he could hear rattling chains and echoes, and his lungs were burning from running so much. He was still very sore from the fight earlier, particularly his head from the beating it had received both on the inside and the out.

And then he could hear her talking – muttering things under her breath almost, but still loud enough to hear from his place in the tunnel. As he moved, he listened.

"…shouldn't have g-gone…"

_Close. I can see lights, I can see the patterns on the floor, scarabs, walls, stairs…_

And then he burst through, being absorbed by the sudden light and sudden space. He blinked rapidly, noting how his eyes stung due to the shift, and that this was the same place as the one in his dreams – and considering he could see Razer chained to the wall to his left… Considering that everything was an exact replica… he began to quietly wonder which way he would meet his end – being eaten, or laser beamed to death. He was just so tired – of everything.

"Hwoarang!" she shouted, stunned – and then the tears changed meaning. He was alive, he was here… he never left.

With a small smile, he lumbered towards his best friend, withdrew the key from his pocket, and tried to relax. It was nearly over. They could leave, try to forget and just… let the apocalypse come, and whatever else that decided to follow afterwards could join later.

Now before her, he dug the key into the shackle holding her right wrist. It came undone with a click, and he gently pried the metal apart and removed her wrist – and her skin was just as warm and soft as he remembered. He wanted to hold her hand right now more than anything, but survival was the primary priority.

Razer, though, was looking straight ahead of herself. Her face slackened and her eyes bulged; and with a breath, she murmured, "Look…"

His blood ran cold when a mighty roar resonated.

His nightmares were becoming more and more alive with the moments that passed. Fear was becoming too light a word to describe how he felt deep down inside.

He span around hurriedly, and in surprise and trepidation, he dropped the key, staring at Azazel the Rectifier, the monster from his nightmares and the beast that was summoned by a mere father-son quarrel. The warnings of Zafina and Julia flooded through his mind, as did his earlier failure of being unable to defeat Kazuya in what was essentially a rigged, double-team battle – and he wondered what would happen next. Which fate, which dream would come.

Azazel stepped forward as far as he could, held back by chains, and roared once again, red eyes glittering in the ancient cave. He demanded the audience – the _attention_ of the people in the chamber. He demanded respect, appreciation – _freedom._

Kicking himself into a fighting mode, Hwoarang dashed towards the giant creature, foot first. The strike came down on his left forearm, and the ones that followed dug into the same, crystal arm. To counter, Azazel span twice, tripping up the already disadvantaged and exhausted Iron Fist fighter. He then moved to stomp on the human four times – but said human was quick, rolling out of the way and coming at him with a Sky Rocket kick from the side – and then there were many lighter attacks.

Now back on the ground, Azazel threw out his large arm, watching as Hwoarang's guard crumbled beneath the force. A second arm came, throwing him far back across his adorned chamber. He took several running steps forward, hoping to squash and crush his body – but then, with a hard 'chink', Azazel's movement was stopped, and he roared in fury. The chains were an absolute nuisance – he wanted blood, he wanted _death._

This man had sinned many times in his life – pride, envy, greed, they were there, buried deep in his heart. He had committed many murders in the name of one woman, and he was possible of doing many more – he had to be purged from the Earth. His domination of mankind – his creation of his perfect dominion – would begin with _him._

A hiss derived from his beak. Azazel raised a leg and slammed it onto the ground – and Hwoarang was sure that if the creature were capable of a wicked smirk, he'd do it. It felt as though his stomach fell through to the floor when claw-crystal pillars burst through the ground, heading in a straight, unwavering line towards him. Standing, he began to run towards the beast, weaving between the pillars to get to him.

More garbled sounds dribbled from the beast, and he slammed his foot down again, causing more pillars to shoot out. A particular one clipped Hwoarang's shoulder as he approached, ripping the skin open. Blood oozed from the wound, creating abstract patterns down his bicep. He became more cautious from there, watching the ground for any movement or parting. In what felt like a room or level away, he could hear Jin and Kazuya fighting, and it unsettled him further.

Now close to him, the Korean switched stance and unleashed back lash in Azazel's face. He groaned and growled and gasped, hurtling back towards his side of the chamber. The solid, unwavering strength of the chains gave way and softened as he got closer to the chains' source. He became tangled and uncomfortable in the metallic confinements, and roared in frustration.

Hwoarang quickly dashed back towards Razer, who'd been trying to tug her other hand out of the shackle. She couldn't get the key from its place on the ground as her legs were shackled too. She ceased struggling when he was in front of her again, grabbing the metal item from its place and going to undo the shackle on her right ankle. This one was more difficult to remove once it was unlocked, and they both silently blamed the boots that she wore.

The other shackle on the other ankle came off a little easier, but as he was helping her get free, the Greek began to panic when she was that Azazel had finally struggled free from the tangled mess and was approaching once again. He came up as close as he possibly could, ending up roughly in the middle of the chamber. The beast then leant forward, hands slamming onto the ground. His claws dug into it, and he hissed again, white and red energy gathering at the centre of his forehead.

Razer knew that sign – he was going to shoot the pair of them with a laser, just like she had done a year before to Jinpachi Mishima and to several others in her corrupted form prior to that.

She had to do something – the energy was gathering rather quickly, and soon he would fire – and it would hit Hwoarang. He would die again and it would be her fault again – she didn't want that. The guilt from before still squeezed her heart.

And then panic began to take over, "Not again… I'm not going to let you die alone again…"

Hwoarang looked to her, annoyed at the final rusty shackle on her left wrist, but surprised at her comment and its suddenness. He glanced behind her, and his heart clenched when he saw what was about to occur in moments, just as the damn shackle finally came undone. She was free to die with him, with their hearts in their mouths.

"I'm not going to let it happen again!"

She was suddenly in front of him, arms out, and Hwoarang didn't want that. He grabbed her by her shoulders, held her against his chest with the same strength that she was giving in her own hug, and turned her towards him so that they were both facing the beast sideways. The light became brighter and brighter and brighter still, engulfing the entire chamber, and he tightened his grip on her.

Azazel roared and released the laser.

They closed their eyes and waited.

There was a sound – they couldn't describe what – and then another angry hiss, and more lasers. They hurriedly opened their eyes, confused, and were both horrified to find Angel standing before them, arms outstretched, protecting the pair. With every laser that struck her, white light spread outward like a proper shield.

Razer was unable to ask how it was possible that she stepped out of her body, but she felt extremely weak. The chains that had been binding her were 'special', according to Jin – they'd been used on him back in the Fourth Tournament to suppress the devil within, and he had used it for the same purpose, but rather to keep the angel within her under control. Yet here she was, in her own form, standing before them as though she were human, "What are you doing?"

As Azazel continued to fire, Angel turned her head and gazed at her host, smiling forlornly. Her eyes then drifted to Hwoarang, and with noticeable strength in her voice that she had not had for a long time, she said, Leave now while you are able.

The statement cut through the Greek. She began to splutter, "L-leave? But –"

Hwoarang grabbed Razer's hand and pulled, running for the better exit this time – the one he didn't come down. She tugged away from him viciously, refusing to leave Angel behind, but his grip was far too strong. He could hear her begin to sob and joke on her words, wanting to get out all sorts of things – good, bad, confused or meaningful – and they just weren't coming. She was being made to leave Angel behind.

She tried to get away from him again as they entered the tidier tunnel, looking over her shoulder as she continued to stare at them and get hit by Azazel's beams. She shoved him and glared at him, her hand almost going numb from the power of his hold, "I have to help her! Please, let me go! Let me _go!_"

As he broke into a run and dragged her along with her, there were two, loud screeches. One was human, and the other was not. Panicking, Razer tried to pull away once more, but she was tugged forward and made to run – and for the first time in what felt like forever and certainly in this encounter today, the Korean hissed, "This isn't our fight."

Running but reluctantly accepting his point inwardly, she continued to break down further into sadness. She was terrified, worried – she might never see Angel again, particularly if she was going to do what she thought she was going to do. Azazel roared again, and from her place running up the stairs, she could even hear the beast pull the chains out of the walls, and they rattled thereafter. The place began to shake – the tunnel began to crumble behind them as they ran towards freedom.

They had to get out.

As they ascended, he did not see guards. This passageway was far better lit and the stairs were even. After a particularly large shockwave, he looked behind him and noted how the corridor continued to collapse into itself, sealing off any return to Azazel's chamber. The dust was sweeping forward hurriedly, as though it were desperate to escape the coming battles as well. It rushed right ahead of them, and they couldn't help but swallow it as they continued to run, needing air.

This passageway was just as twisted and weaving as the one Hwoarang came down, though, and the turns were a lot sharper. They banked a hard right, then a hard left, and then an additional two hard rights all within the space of a few moments, leaving them a little dizzy from the speed of the movement. Their worries sky rocketed when rocks began to fall in front of them, slowly blocking out the little light they had left.

Hurrying onward, they tightened their grip on one another's hands and kept going. Both copped a few small rocks – some on the shoulder and quite a few on the back of their heels to be precise. When a particularly large one was about to fall on him, the Greek released his hand and hurriedly shoved him forward, well out of the way of the ominous shadow that continued to grow on the floor, until the item joined it.

Up ahead, they found that half of the corridor had been blocked off by more stones. He grabbed her and shoved her through the opening, not willing to move aside any rocks in case the rest of the area collapsed. Once she got through, he squeezed in after her, stumbling for her hand when they began to run again, rapidly approaching the exit. The Gargoyle's Perch would be there around them soon enough –

But what if that collapsed too?

The faint roar of Azazel was heard, and then there was more shaking. Weaving through the falling stones was proving to be more and more difficult due to fatigue – that and the fact that they were falling at a lot faster rate than before. There were a lot more of them too, they realised – and they could finally see blue, white and red light clawing down the corridor. Blue for the candles, white for the general light, and red for the fires that were devouring Tokyo in its blazing malice.

The closer they got, the more the place continued to shake and the more rocks fell. The closer they got, the more it felt as though their legs would give out from underneath them due to sheer exhaustion. The closer they got, the more they began to wonder what could possibly wait them on the other side – more of Jin's forces? More fire? How long until either demon or Azazel furthered the annihilation process? Who would bring the apocalypse?

He edged himself on, feeling Razer stumble repeatedly behind him – and the walls of the corridor melted away behind their forms. They were back in the Gargoyle's Perch, and it was just the way they'd left it. The fires were much taller in the distance, and they burned with the same intensity – but the flames were nowhere near this place. There were no soldiers, there were no bombs or traps or anything that they could see in the immediate area – and the corridor caved in behind them.

Taking a few moving steps forward and possessed by utter exhaustion, the pair crashed to the ground and lay flat against it, trying to suck in as much air as possible. Their muscles were aching terribly, but with the little strength they had left, they still held hands and gazed at each other with their cheeks pressed to the cold floor, waiting for whatever came next – whether it was death or not.

She was crying – he could vaguely understand why, considering what she'd been through the last few months and how she'd finally been taken away from the horrors and being forced to leave behind somebody who'd been there for so much of her life – and he wanted to say something, but he was unable to. Besides, his vision was going anyway, and he was assuming that hers was too.

Footsteps were soon heard. They both tilted their heads upward, despite blurry visions, and they watched as a man approached. He was standing tall and straight, and his stride was confident. The closer he came to them, the clearer he became in their eyes. They realised that it was a friend – a friend that was going to help them get out of here and _survive._

Now standing before them, Lars pulled out his cellphone and looked down on them with a smile. He dialled for the ambulance and spoke, just as they fell into darkness, "Send an ambulance to the Gargoyle's Perch. I have two Iron Fist fighters unconscious before my feet… The missing Iron Fist participant has been found alive."


	33. Higher Than Hope

_**Chapter Thirty-Three: Higher Than Hope**_

* * *

When demons fight, the angels cry.

She didn't want to cry for the two men battling in a nearby room – they brought this all upon themselves. They brought about their own destruction, their own problems and their own coming breakdowns. Their hatred for each other and themselves was well and truly the worst curse of all.

Azazel roared in rage, not understanding why his beams failed to harm or kill Angel. He was struggling against the chains with an unprecedented force – his previous two play toys got away from him, and he wasn't going to let this one see the light outside of this cavern again!

With a mighty heave, Azazel tugged at the chains once more, and they finally tore from the chamber walls. He took several unrestricted steps forward, growling in victory. He gazed down at the white figure below him, baring his teeth. He was puzzled – why was this figure entirely unharmed and so unfrightened? This… was not normal. Cultures feared his _name,_ where as this woman stared up at him with contempt.

Focusing words in his mind, he directed them at her, because he knew she'd understand – after all, she was clearly not human, Who are you?

What you are not, she replied curtly, sliding into stance with her heart now higher than hope, Loved.

* * *

Jin threw out a double chamber punch against his father, who was trapped between him and the wall. Reeling from the strike, he was unable to defend himself when a jab followed by Savage Sword struck his slumping form. With a small growl, Jin moved to hit him again, but the heel was caught and parried away as a glowing, red eye bore into his soul – _souls._

This was it – whoever won this would control the Mishima Zaibatsu, the world and all its resources. Whoever won this would attain the right to destroy the Rectifier – or utilize him – and do as they pleased thereafter. It was quite literally all or nothing from here on in – and both would stop at nothing to attain their goals, whether they were immoral or not.

Kazuya's elbow soared through the air and pushed into Jin's jaw. Following this, he slammed a knee into the reeling body, and then a second elbow drove itself into his muscled back, flooring the world's ruler. He attempted a stomp afterward, but Jin caught the foot juts as it was inches from his face. Kazuya was hen pushed back until he nearly fell, giving his son plenty of room to stand once again.

Once he had space, the younger man dashed forward with his Evil Intent move, but he feigned the last strike, instead opting for a shorter barrage of quick punches. He then weaved out of the wary of another knee and managed to foresee a hellsweep. In response, he jumped over it and flicked out his right leg, watching as it smashed into his chin and forced his head back. Kazuya's entire form collapsed, and Jin saw the opportunity to throw out a roundhouse, forcing the Mishima to the ground.

Gritting his teeth, Kazuya rolled so that he was half-sitting up on his side. Spitting out blood from his mouth, he stood and brushed dust off of his white suit. He then approached the stagnant fighter, noting how uneven his breathing was, "Jin… the fight has only just begun, and already you are exhausted. You are a Mishima – act like one."

And then somewhere, the bound remains of the true Jin finally took hold of his own vocal cords for the first time in a long, long time, "I am not my Father's son. I am my _Mother__'__s!_"

Devil Jin attempted to control his host, but with such renewed strength and determination was hard to drag down. He struck his opponent in the chest with a tightly closed fist, and then a low kick, and then an even harder fist to the stomach. Kazuya wheezed.

Soon enough, the dominant, parasitic soul seized full control again and calmed his actions, blocking more of Kazuya's elbow attacks. A low lunging kick followed, causing Jin to buckle over – but he rolled out of the way quickly thereafter before any follow-up strike appeared. He wasn't going to let this fight go.

Everything to gain. Everything to lose.

* * *

It had been many, many years since Angel had appeared in physical form to fight. Those times as her corrupted self did not count, and frankly she cared not to remember them. She was entirely focused on her task – to destroy the Rectifier before he killed more innocents, directly or not.

She thrust a palm out to the guarding arm, which was carelessly tossed aside. Following this, she threw out a leg strike, and then another and another. She attempted to grab the beast's arm to restrain it, but he merely lurched forward and headbutted her, causing her to drop down and hold her head, disorientated.

Azazel growled lowly and then slammed his hand down, causing more crystal claws to spurt from the ground – but Angel was in the air, her wings beating strongly, and she charged, slamming a fist, then a knee and then an elbow into his eye, making him stumble back and roar.

In response, he glared at her and stomped the ground, illuminating the otherworldly figure in a purple-ish light. She attempted to move, but she was shocked to find that she had been entirely immobilised. There was a gurgled noise, and Azazel got on all fours once again, charging a new laser beam – and he knew that this one would hit, no matter what.

Angel continued struggling from her place in mid air. She needed to move, she _needed _to find life in her body again or she'd be killed. Sadly, it felt as though waiting was currently the only option. Until that life returned, she was no better than a statue, wiggling her fingers –

…Wiggling her fingers…

She propelled her body higher into the air, wings working furiously, just as the Rectifier unleashed the beam. Once it faded away, Angel was at it again, throwing out every move she could think of or had learnt – either from her time with Kazuya, Razer, or even Baek's teachings. Everything would be of use.

She landed on the beast's back and kicked him hard in the back of the head, making him buckle forward. She then held on tightly as he attempted to get her off; and briefly, the blonde was reminded of a raging bull, shaking this way and that way to get the rider off. Gripping what she could, Angel closed her eyes and focused all of her energy into the wreath's gem that was nestled upon her head. If he deemed lasers to be useable, then she would use her own, too.

* * *

Jin caught a fist. He smirked as Kazuya tried to pull his hand back, but to no avail. He pushed down on the flesh harshly, watching his Father's face contort with displeasure. The youth then tugged hard, forcing him to stumble forward – and at the same time, Jin raised his knee and leapt up towards him, forcing a collision between the knee and Kazuya's jaw.

Jin then switched feet, propelling his foot into the man's temple. He could feel the muscles in the held fist begin to relax, more so after he delivered an axe kick to the top of his head. With one last angry grunt, Kazuya dropped to the floor, unconscious and defeated.

The victor smirked. He maintained his championship title in addition to the Mishima Financial Empire – the world was still his to mould and shape as he saw fit. In essence… he was still God. Almost.

"A shame you were so weary from your match against that _imbecile,_" he spat, passing the motionless body. He gazed at the large door before him, his smirk widening, and exhaled deeply. There was one thing left for him to do now… Now that anybody and everybody who could've rivalled him for this grand power was dead, out of action or allied to him, he could attain _true _Godhood with the beast of legend tamely standing by his side.

Throwing a door open, Jin stepped out into Azazel's chamber, expecting to see the beast standing there, awaiting a challenge. He expected to see him standing there tall and straight, welcoming him with a hearty smirk and a ready stance. He expected to see him ready to strike him, lunging forth within mere milliseconds, giving him almost no time to block – but he'd be able to do so and then follow it up with a quick hit of his own, in some warped, heroic fantasy in the back of his head.

None of that was what he saw.

He was greeted with the beast screeching in a desperate, animalistic attempt to save himself and be rid of the malicious parasite standing on his back. He was greeted with a white-clad figure, holding herself steadily on the Rectifier, charging a mass of energy. And to the far right, he was greeted with nothing, _no__ one _being bound.

And right there, in the chamber, he saw flashes. Transparent flashes, as though the beast was telling him what happened and how they ended up this way. The important, key things that had transpired, and the event that triggered it.

The Captain had betrayed him. The sacrifice had escaped. The bandit was alive.

The Angel had come for redemption.

Yelling in fury, Jin dashed across, hoping to ascend the demonic form and aid him – but he got there too little too late. Angel unleashed the laser, having it plough through the back of Azazel's skull. The shriek that followed was piercing and echoed throughout the gloomy vicinity. He began to crumble like dry mud – first the arms, then the tail and legs and torso and then finally, his head.

Angel was left hovering in the air, gazing at a silently distraught Japanese man. She soon landed before what remained of the beast, feeling a strange presence emit from the glowing, purple orb behind her leg. And Jin could feel it too, there was no doubt about that. The orb's pull on the man was considerably stronger – it was power, it was strength and everything else he could have ever wanted… all in that sphere.

I cannot let you take it, Jin Kazama, she rumbled.

"I do not need _your_ permission to take something that _belongs_ to _me,_" Jin hissed.

Angel immediately nudged the orb backwards and leapt forwards, throwing out a heel. She had to keep the orb from him at all costs – it was raw power, something the world could not tolerate should he possess it.

The attack was predicted and blocked. In response, Jin tripped her up and nailed her with his fists continuously, driving her back closer and closer towards the item he desperately sought after. His nails deeply dug into her flesh, and he was so close that he could hear voice whispering from the item.

Suddenly galvanised, Angel seized Jin by the forearm and flew into the air. She carried him to roughly the middle of the room before throwing him the rest of the way with a mighty shout. His back collided with the wall, but it did not phase him. He began to run towards the orb again, attracted by what it promised him – and Angel was shooting short laser bursts at him to try and slow him down.

When that failed, she rushed him head on through the air, throwing an onslaught of punches and the occasional kick. With a well timed parry, Jin jabbed her once and then conducted a roundhouse, making the lady in white hurtle through the air and away from him and his prize.

_The orb is mine!_

He reached for it, he wanted to touch it and hold it and utilize it so badly, but before he was able to, Angel was stopping him again, grabbing him by the back of his trench coat and tossing him back several feet, as though he were a flimsy toy. She flew towards him thereafter, throwing out any punches, kicks or lasers that she could muster. This had to stop _here._ This had to stop _now._

She approached to conduct a few moves that he was familiar with – Mishima karate moves – but she was easily parried and countered just like before. Although she knew she was a good fighter, she also knew that she was weaker than Jin, more so from temporarily separating herself from her host's body. He seized her calf and squeezed, hurling her away from the orb once more.

The orb continued to call him, even as he extended a hand and grabbed it. For a few brief moments, he felt an incredible surge of power pumping through his veins – the strength of the Gods, and so much more. So much more all in this one sphere that he wasn't even aware of until Azazel's demise.

And then weakness took him.

It was as though someone was quite literally zapping the energy out of him, draining his life force just to spite him. Like he'd been exercising for far too long and his muscles were screaming from exhaustion. He didn't understand it – at least not until he saw purple mist sliding down his left arm, pouring itself into the orb. It felt like his arm was burning, and it was here that it keyed in.

Devil's soul was being absorbed.

The man screamed in rage – this is _not_ how it was supposed to be! He was supposed to live, to conquer, to _rule__ –_

From the room behind him, he could see another steady purple stream emerge, intertwining with his in a manner that strongly reminded him of a double helix. They merged together at the top, creating a ghostly apparition into the air – the two halves of Devil were coming together at least, being reunited into the one being that he should've always been.

As Devil Jin seeped from his body, the real Jin gained control of his body once more. He could feel the chains slackening, and then vanish entirely. With a shaking hand, he dropped the orb onto the ground, watching as the now singular stream steadily followed the descent.

It was only now did he notice a second, white stream coming from the only other living thing in the room. It was a crouched angel, who was smiling wholly. She did not expect this to occur, but she was glad and would go along with it willingly, no matter what.

"But you are good," Jin choked.

I am the yang to Devil's yin, she replied, still smiling, Two sides of the same coin, trapped together forever with no say in it, and that is fine. If I can set you free, right the wrong of my past and secure the world's future in exchange for my life, then I would do it without a second thought.

Her form was soon gone, but the last of the stream remained, tying with Devil's as his separated halves had done beforehand. They were swallowed whole by the orb, being absorbed until there was nothing left but Jin's breathing, and two voices down on the ground. One was Devil, _begging_ him to pick up the orb again. The other was Angel, who was not panicked or frantic in the slightest, unlike the previous speaker.

She was calm and confident as she spoke to Jin, the sound resonating through Azazel's chamber, Destroy the orb.

Fatigue announced its presence – it suddenly felt incredibly difficult to stand. Huffing, he furrowed his eyebrows and glared down at the orb, seeing wisps of Devil's disgusting face pressed up against the glass, clawing at it in an attempt to escape. But he wouldn't escape – not now, not ever again.

His spiritual form on this planet… would _forever _be destroyed!

With a loud roar, Jin slammed his heel into the orb. It cracked and then shattered beneath him.

Once the orb was destroyed, he felt overpowered by an unforeseen, painful force, and he couldn't help but drop to his knees and scream until his voice was hoarse. He screamed for the pain he'd endured for his life, the torment and the hatred and the lies and the death that Devil Jin made happen through his hands. He screamed for the pain he'd caused others and the lives he couldn't replace. He screamed for his freedom, for how it truly felt to be alone for the first time ever – to feel what it was like to have a sanctuary within himself like every other human. He screamed for the hole in his heart and the one in his soul, too.

Behind him, he could hear Kazuya screaming too for what he assumed were the same reasons. He wondered if he was still unconscious. The world was becoming blurry now, blurry and dark. He just wanted to curl into himself and fall asleep and try to find where to start again as the tears fell and the shock finally set in. He was free of the devil within. His life was now his own as he faded into unconsciousness.

Elsewhere, the sacrifice, still out cold, screamed whilst being wheeled down a hospital corridor. Beside her, the bandit merely watched through half-lidded eyes, half-drugged up and barely able to hold onto her fingers. Everything seemed to be a mess – a mixture of the unsightly and the beautiful, and he couldn't distinguish the lines or the meanings.

Between them, the Captain monitored them both, and he could smell burning flesh as the doctors rushed to sedate the sacrifice further, wondering why a light from her hip was bursting through the white blanket. They were too preoccupied with attempting to subdue her though, and the bandit let out an indistinguishable noise when the Captain pulled back part of the blanket to note no scar, no mark, no scratch, no nothing. Jut pure, untainted skin.

"Gone…" the other man rasped with a shaking voice.

He stopped walking, unable to go further past this point; and with a long exhale, he placed a hand on his face and tried to remember what it was like to breathe again.


	34. Metamorphosis

_**Chapter Thirty-Four: Metamorphosis**_

* * *

The entire location was empty. It was just black, spacious, lonely – _different._

Kazuya… could not recognise his own mind. He could not find his way – it was far too different compared to what he had grown up with. There were no red eyes glaring at him from every angle. There was no throne… He was literally alone.

He could not recall a time when he'd been truly alone. If he thought hard about it, he guessed that it would've been when he was five or so, before that first cliff-throw. Devil seemed so enticing and promising to such a young, childish mind. He eventually learnt to control him… as though they were… friends.

But Kazuya, at the very core of himself, was a very broken, weak man – and he was only just beginning to realise it now that there was no second voice making suggestions or demands or ideas. By living his life through Devil, through revenge and deceit, he well and truly had nothing to show for it. He amounted to _nothing,_ just as Heihachi would hiss at him as he grew up.

There were portions of various images – memories, he deduced upon recognising them – appearing in a multitude of places in the area. They were bright and illuminating, so much so that his tainted skin was visible. There were some above him, in front of him, to his side, behind him and below him. He almost wanted to try and observe them all.

The one right at his feet was inescapable as sounds from it began to drown his ears, as the image _forced_ itself upon him. What he saw made him feel an odd mixture of emotions – sadness, uncertainty, grief… Pity.

It was him, as a young child. He would've been about… eight or so, and he was sitting on a hill by himself, watching birds. The Devil was there, lurking in the back of his mind, and it frightened him because he just didn't understand the creature's obstinate murmurings. Something about being only half as powerful, lonely, bored, _weak _and wanting more than just a boring, broken boy. He wanted the world.

The world, Kazuya, Devil seethed, pacing in the small mental confinement, The world one day will be _mine,_ and then there was a pause, a smirk, a turn and a low rumble, _Ours,_ Kazuya. The world will be _ours._

He shook his head and tried to focus more on the two courting birds as they flew through the air in patterns, _I__ don__'__t __want __the __world__… __I __want __to __be __happy._

Ah, but if you have _everything, _like the world, Kazuya, then you'll truly be _happy,_ Devil needed to remind himself that his host was still a young child who desired simple things and understood only basic things, You can only be happy if you have the world. You don't _deserve _to be happy otherwise.

_So… only if I own the world, only then I will be happy?_

Only then.

There was suddenly a large shadow looming over him, flowing down the hill. The adult Kazuya tried hard to recall who the shadow would've been before the figure came – what if what remained of this memory was bad?

And then a light laugh, a ruffle on the head and Jinpachi, his wonderful, caring grandfather, sat beside him, "**What ****are ****you ****doing ****out ****here?**** You ****should ****be ****inside ****playing ****with ****your ****toys.**"

"**Father**** wants ****me**** to ****train. ****I**** don****'****t ****want ****to ****right ****now, ****so ****I**** came ****here.**"

Jinpachi smiled a little, watching the grass at his feet sway in the gentle breeze, "**You ****don****'****t ****have ****to ****train ****if ****you**** don****'****t ****want ****to,**** Kazuya. ****You ****can ****make ****your ****own ****choice.**"

A toothy grin and an unfamiliar feeling brewed in his chest. Excited, he asked Devil, _Is __this __happiness?_

No, he growled, It is not.

The memory released Kazuya, and his mouth was in a firm line. The origin of his desire, of his _need_ to take over the world… was all because he was unhappy for all of his life. All because then and there, he didn't understand. He was manipulated, he was fooled – he was a _vessel._

A picture to his left demanded attention. He gave it, watching himself at 28-years-old, head of the Mishima Zaibatsu without his idiot Father watching over him like a hawk or hanging around him like a bad smell.

Unlike the previous sequence, though, it was as though a bunch of clips had been edited together. He saw flashes of himself sitting at the desk, wondering why he was unhappy – did Devil not promise this feeling once he ruled the world? He might as well be ruling it right now, he was head of a very large and important empire. He should've been happy.

The next image that came was during the second tournament – it was himself again, in his purple suit, greeting the competitors. And then he saw her, a woman in black pants, a white shirt and a white headband, power-walking towards him with an ominous scowl.

"You are Kazuya Mishima," she hissed, ignoring a bumbling man telling her to calm down and handle the situation like a professional, "And _you _are guilty of so many awful crimes."

She pulled out handcuffs, and he laughed, noting the resilient sparkle in her eyes, "I didn't know that there were women who were into bondage…" The shocked look on her face pleased him more so as he continued to weave the web of the lie, "Besides, you cannot arrest me for things I have not done or ordered. You are only throwing accusations."

And then another image of him and her, and another and another and then there was a scene with the pair of them. She admitted that she was drawn to him, inexplicably. She didn't understand how or why, she said, but she could confidently admit it. She had that sparkle in her eyes again.

He laughed at her mockingly.

Deep in his chest, though, he could feel that floating feeling again. That feeling he had when Jinpachi said that he didn't have to train if he didn't want to. The laughter was a mask to hide it, to hide that feeling that he didn't understand and couldn't put a true name to.

A voice appeared, then, as he withdrew himself from the memory. One he had not heard since around that time period, _That_ is happiness, Kazuya. You never needed the world – only her.

Angel's voice woke Kazuya hurriedly from his unconscious state, and he found himself in G-Corporation's infirmary unit. He wished he didn't end up so weak, because perhaps then he could've realised the errors of his ways and told Jun Kazama that he indeed cared and that it wasn't as silly as it sounded. Maybe he could've been a better man – better than his Father – and he could've made a difference for the right reasons.

The lingering medic, Eriol, began to stutter when he noticed that the man was awake, "**S-sir,**** are ****you ****alri**** –**"

"**A**** mirror,**" he rasped, furrowing his eyebrows, staring at the ceiling.

Nodding quickly, Eriol dashed off to find it and soon returned, handing him the requested, circular item.

Kazuya seized it quickly and sat up wholly, closing his eyes and exhaling sharply. It felt as though his heart was in his throat, palpitating at an increasing rate. He raised his arm so that when he dared to look, he'd be looking straight into the mirror – but he felt too weak, too cowardly to do so. Whatever he saw on the other side… either situation would break him like the child he used to be.

He opened his eyes, finding two brown ones staring back.

The red eye… it was gone. Devil was truly gone forever, he realised, as the hand holding the mirror began to shake. There was a very strong sense of happiness and complete freedom, but there was such a strong sense of loss, too. That being had been with him for so long, he had built a life for the two of them – and without Devil, he didn't know what to do anymore. Not anymore.

It was freedom and it was pain, and he crushed the mirror in his hand and threw it down to his left, staring into space with an overwhelming sense of being lost – lost in his life, with no aim, no place to from here… Nothing to do. No one to see. Nobody who cared – even if it was just an act, as Devil's had been. His life had amounted to nothing, and without the soul who truly built it…

There was nothing else to do but to try and breathe as he fought to keep the emotions inside.

* * *

The place was still destroyed. There would be a long way to go before it'd be normal again.

Jin dropped a mirror shard atop the debris, sighing. He stood to his full height and wondered where to begin. Each mirror that'd been shattered still tried to play or show an image, but because it was damaged, the picture would be half-gone and skipping, like a scratched record. They may as well have been useless, just like he had been over the last few months. Absolutely useless, worthless and –

He subconsciously waited for Devil to complete the sentence, but it never came. Exhaling, he looked around, noting how intricate the web's designs were – how much control Devil really had, how long he'd been making his mind on his own, independently of his host.

Gritting his teeth, he sped towards the nearest webs and ripped his hand through it – he didn't want any part of Devil to remain, because his footprint was dirty and wrong and unwanted in his new domain.

The webs did not stick to his hand – they merely faded away. Motivated by this prospect – this idea to start again – he rushed to every other web he could find and repeated the action. It had to go. Nothing could stay. He shoved all of the debris into a pile into the centre of the room afterwards and then began to will it away with whatever mental strength he had left. He couldn't start again if the old wasn't thrown away.

Soon enough, the shattered mirrors, the rocks, the chains – they all vanished before his eyes. And there was nobody to tell him to stop or to pull him down. He could shape his own mind again – he cold explore his own mind without restriction again – he could be _alone._

His mind was racing, shouting, _begging__ – __move __faster, __start __again, __out __with __the __old __and __in __with __the __new__ – _and it was borderline psychotic.

He listened for thunder and lightning, and it soon came to him. He visualised the forests of Yakushima, right down to the birds that made their homes high in the branches. To the feel of the rough texture of the bark, and the smell of flowers – and as he focused, he watched them erupt from the sudden earth beneath his feet, all around him, as though it was an embrace.

To him, the mind was supposed to be a sanctuary. A place where he could withdraw into himself and think – to be at peace. A place to be alone and happy, without fear of comebacks or taunts or anything else of the sort – true and complete privacy.

All that was left were the three mirrors – the three mirrors in his private sanctuary that tainted its innocence and its nature. He walked towards them and stared, seeing the figures in them at their actual height.

Jun, his Mother, was first – her image was black and white – understandable considering she was no longer amongst the living. The image continued to skip, showing only one scene. She was sitting on the grass, admiring the flowers by her hand, and she was looking away from him. Something caught her attention, and as she tucked her hair behind her ear, she looked to him with a curious expression. And then it would repeat.

He smiled a little, missing her – she was the only thing that he did not taint. However, he noticed a blemish on the mirror, on one of the few things he had left of her image, and it irritated him. There was fog over her chest, like somebody had breathed on it. He attempted to swipe it away, but it would not leave. He tried a few more times and realised that it wouldn't leave.

Agitated, he moved onto the second mirror that held a younger Xiaoyu. Her colours were bright and happy – she was the definition of 'being alive' and even 'happiness', to him. Whenever he thought of those two, she was the first thing that came to mind because she represented it so well to the world – at least, this version of her. Like the previous image, it was skipping. She was looking over her shoulder, looking to him, talking, before furrowing her eyebrows and turning wholly, lightly shoving him with a smile. Then it'd repeat again.

And just like Jun's mirror, Xiaoyu's was blemished – damaged – off. There was a hard, deep scratch going across it. At the start of the sequence, it would be on her shoulder – but then she would turn and it would be over her neck and in particular, her mouth – her smile. Furrowing his eyebrows, he extended his thumb and ran it over the surface, saddened to find that it was indeed there. It was simply in too deep to get fixed properly.

The final mirror showed Razer, who'd been wearing the shirt he bought for her back in the third tournament. She looked a lot happier in this image than she'd been in the last few months. It was early on in the year before all the bad things happened. She was sitting in front of him at a small, circular table in the mall, just hanging out after a movie. She then grinned in that amused way, reached across and put both of her hands on the side of his face, pulling his cheeks a little. And then it would repeat.

This mirror was by far the most damaged. The colours were normal but there was a large smash around her head. It spread a little from there in random directions, but there was a particularly long one cutting straight through the image, stopping at where her right hand rested. He followed the trail with his eyes, waiting for the image to reset – and when it did, he saw her spinning a silver ring around her finger. The one Hwoarang gave her back in the fourth tournament.

It was then that it keyed in. He'd been lucky – very lucky. He'd been very lucky to get into a relationship with her in the first place, because now, to him, it was clear where her heart's allegiance resided. And he wasn't mad; he knew that she loved him back then. But he didn't have all of her attention, more so as the days went by and he lost himself.

There was a flicker of red eyes near the hand, and Jin leapt back, furrowing his eyebrows as the eyes travelled across all three mirrors before vanishing. He looked behind him, wondering if the other soul remained somewhere – but he could see nothing.

The influence of Devil… it would never leave.

The smudge, the scratch, the smash – they were what remained of him, of what he had done or caused. The past was and forever would be inescapable. All he could do was try and better himself from here in hope for atonement and forgiveness.

As he looked down on the earth, he was torn from his sanctuary – he was forced to awaken. This new place he could identify – he was in the Zaibatsu's medical area, his own private hospital.

And then a voice, "Oh, you're awake!"

It took several moments for him to be able to recognise the sound – he felt too trained to look to his right to clarify it visually, "Seong-Hada?"

"Yes yes, hello!"

_Now_he looked, indeed finding the youth sitting there in a stylish, black button-up coat on his form – it must've been cold today. He spoke hoarsely, uncertainly, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting you, of course!" he replied happily.

"But how did you get in? This area is for restricted personnel only…"

"I asked that officer – ooh, what was his name again? Uh-um…" he was snapping his fingers, attempting to recall it, "Oh! Right! Lars! He let me come in."

Nodding slightly, the next question came – he didn't want to hear the answers, but it was necessary so he could build a better picture of the events that had passed when he was controlled, "Could you please tell me… how I was? Before I ended up in here… I hardly have a memory of it."

And so Seong-Hada told him how when he was possessed, he enslaved the world. He told him how the population lived in fear, how he struck down anybody who dared to have a voice or a conscious. How he initiated a war against his Father in densely populated cities, killing millions in a struggle to maintain complete control. How he broke his girlfriend just to make sure that she wouldn't challenge him.

"I don't really know what else happened. At one point you were just bombarding anywhere you pleased, like it was just to amuse yourself… You bombed my workplace and killed all my co-workers, and if I hadn't woken up late on that day…"

The frown on his face was large, "I'm sorry, I had no control -"

"I know," he replied, fiddling with his hands, "Some others know. But billions of others don't, a-and I don't know how you are going to tell them."

"Neither do I."

He pursed his lips in thought and leant back in his chair, folding his arms, "When I used to call you everyday, you were like this – qu… _qui__… __quiet!_ Quiet and humble – but you changed so fast and noticeably and I just couldn't…"

Jin nodded, silencing the 20-year-old. He understood. After some more silence, he asked, "How are Razer and Hwoarang? You should be with them."

"Baek is with them, they will be okay. Steve, Lars and Miharu visit regularly too, and everybody else has dropped in at least once. It's been a few days…" he looked to his hands, "Razer hasn't woken up. Hwoarang wakes every few hours, stares at her and then tries to sleep again. The doctors say that if he manages to stay awake within the next day instead of just drifting in and out of sleep, he should be able to get out on that day, or the one after, they think!" After a pause, he looked up to Jin, "Please tell me what happened at Gargoyle's Perch. Or at least what you can remember."

He sighed sadly and looked to the ceiling, trying to get lost in its endless colours, "There are only small things that I can recall… A two-against-one fight against Hwoarang is what I mainly remember. Devil Kazuya was fighting him physically, and my own demon penetrated his mind – and I managed to get in to help him fight that part off so he could focus on the physical battle. Other than that, I only remember wisps of a beast, an orb and my freedom… and Angel telling me to destroy the orb," he looked to Seong-Hada, "She and Devil are gone now."

"Well," he remarked, furrowing his eyebrows, "that explains why her tattoo thing is missing – and yours," he then added after a slight pause and as wide a smile as he could muster, "Welcome to freedom."

He smiled a little in return, "It is bittersweet."

Silence.

"I can see why Xiaoyu is so fond of you," Jin commented, shifting in the bed, "You are very kind-hearted. It is something I remembered when I was trapped – that not everybody was so dark and bad. Very few people would've considered coming to see me, given what I have done."

He stuttered a little, scratching his arm in nervousness, "W-well, it's not your fault, so it would be wrong of me to abandon a friend."

"Thank you for your kindness."

The youth nodded, "It's okay! Xiao had an exam today, so she couldn't come with me…"

"I understand. Exams are important."

"Y-yeah…"

"You don't have to be so nervous around me, Seong-Hada. If I am making you uncomfortable, then feel free to leave."

He shook his head rapidly and waved his hands in dismissal, "No no no! It's not that…" when Jin gave him a look asking him to continue, he swallowed, "I'm just wondering how I could possibly… compete? Uh… _Compare,_ that's the word! How I could possibly compare to you."

He quirked an eyebrow, "Compare?"

"I-I mean… What could I possibly offer her a-after she stared at you for so many years?" he pointed to his bicep, "I'm not exactly strong," then his head, "or the cleverest," then he slouched forward, "Let's face it, I'm a dork! What could I possibly offer her that you don't have or didn't give…?"

His reply was simple and honest, "Your heart."

He paused, and after he absorbed the information, he nodded deeply.

"Seong-Hada… Why did Razer stay?"

He scratched the top of his head, "She wanted to help you. Nearly everyday, she would murmur how she understood what you were going through and she just wanted to be there to try and help… But she didn't know what to do, or how, o-or where to begin!" he frowned, "In the end, when she thought to leave, you made her stay by putting a price on our lives… You forbade her from coming anywhere near us. And then, I guess, she realised that she was doing nothing all along."

Jin's eyes were blurry, "She has done more than she will ever know."

"Well," Seong-Hada began, standing and brushing the tops of his jeans, "Maybe you should tell her that."

Jin watched as the Korean left the room quietly. Just as he saw the dark blue hair disappear, he saw Lars come close, unsure if he should enter. After all, he was solely responsible for Jin's downfall – he coordinated the rebellion right under his nose, he released the sacrifice and the bandit and absolutely ruined him – and he didn't know anything about the Devil Gene, either.

"Lars," he began, sitting up in his bed, "Could you please get me a pen and paper?"

With a stiff salute, he turned to fulfil the request.

* * *

It was strange. Half of the place had vanished.

It was something she had craved for since she was 12-years-old, and now that she had true solitude in her mind, she didn't want it anymore. To lose a friend for this – it wasn't all that she thought it'd be. Not anymore, anyhow.

The winds surrounding her were only half as strong. There was no will or care to do anything. Razer just wanted to see Angel again, to thank her for all she'd done in their brief time together and to remind her that she had long forgiven her for tormenting her in her corrupted state – it wasn't her fault anyway, though she often spoke of it being so.

Her aimless wandering made her more and more depressed. Everywhere she looked in the constructed environment, half was gone. Half a wall, half a tree, half a bench, half a lamppost… It was very unsettling. It was like she had to start all over again, with half the materials, half the willpower and half the strength to do so. She didn't even know where to begin.

If this was her mind, then she'd be able to finish the handiwork, right? That bench should've been complete, that tree should've had the rest of its trunk and branches, and the lamppost should have the rest of its light bulb and shine brighter –

And then it began to snow. The ground around her was being blanketed in pure white. It had been so sudden, though – she wished she understood how all of this worked entirely as opposed to partially. It didn't frighten her, but it certainly startled her very often.

She wasn't cold, though. She supposed that was of her own mental preference – love the snow, but hate how cold it'd be in the air, and here, she could imagine anything. Cultivate anything. Be in anything and hide from everything. Therefore, by that theory, surely… Surely she could bring Angel back. She could bring her back.

She focused on wings, mainly. Wings to sprout out of nowhere, and for Angel to appear on the now-complete bench, and to talk to her. Just chat, about all sorts of things – and then she'd stop beating around the bush and pour out her heart so she understood. Just so she understood that she wasn't an inconvenience, because that's how she used to feel.

Her focus was strong, but nothing came. The cold finally came in, though, and she shivered and curled further into herself. She could clearly picture the texture of every feather put together, but nothing formed. Nothing –

It picked up again, and Razer growled in annoyance. She looked to the tree, or rather the sticks that remained, and noted the direction of the wind. She turned her head away from it, looking down to the empty space on the bench beside her – and that's when she saw it. Just one, white feather.

Without hesitation, she picked it up, wishing for more, or for the rest, maybe – but she still failed. She just –

Jin has destroyed an orb that Azazel held in his heart, Angel sounded, and Razer looked everywhere for her, but to no avail, And with it, Devil and myself have been wiped from the spiritual plane of the Earth. Now we only exist in the sky and below the ground – as legends, as quiet guardians or curses, the way that we should have been. You are both free, as is Kazuya. The world is safe again.

"Come back," she growled, ignoring the warm water drifting down her skin, "Come back and stay."

Your life is your own, now, came her voice, and she wondered if that was remorse hidden in there, You can build your own life without having to go around my presence, or anybody else's. You are your own person, and only you alone can command your own destiny. Have faith, and do not despair.

"You were never an obstacle – you're my _friend._And I want you to come back!"

It was as though Angel smiled sadly, Live your life well, and live it happily, Besides, I am never gone - you carry me with you on your back.

Just as she spoke, her back began to sting sharply for a bit, and she was left entirely confused for a few moments before it hit her – the one angel wing tattoo. The one she spontaneously got back in Greece, for no reason. Maybe… maybe she knew this day would come, one day. Or maybe not. But either way…

Until we meet again, Razer Athane.

The feather vanished along with her voice.

She clenched the hand she'd been holding the feather in and attempted to steady her breathing. She didn't want to cry – everybody had been doing enough of that, including herself. The time for happiness was to begin very soon, and she wanted that more than anything. After everything she'd been forced to see, forced to hear… it was time to smile again. For her new, great future… but it was so hard to believe that one would be waiting.

Turning her head back to the empty spot, she was shocked to find a white rose. Swallowing, she grabbed it and observed it in the same manner as the feather before it, spinning it around a little by the stem. It was by far the prettiest one she'd ever seen – every petal had been perfectly formed, and as a whole it was very alive, very pretty.

In her hands, it began to burn inexplicably. Furrowing her eyebrows and blinking away the few tears she still had stashed away, she watched as the white turned black and curled into itself. The leaves and the stem soon went the same way, but the fire did not burn her hands. It continued to grow, until it was a large ball – large enough to hover between her hands.

Smiling, Razer pulled her legs up onto the bench and backed into the corner, her lower body pressing firmly against the arm rest. The fire was warm, as it should've been; and so, she held it close to her body, watching the flames flicker about. She held onto it – held onto him, as she began trying to piece together the rest of her mind.

In the waking world, Baek placed his jacket over Hwoarang's shoulder. His Master bade him goodnight, and his head was resting on the top of the bed frame drowsily, trying to remind her deep in her mind that despite what had happened, she was not alone.


	35. Back Where I Belong

_**Chapter Thirty-Five: Back Where I Belong**_

* * *

It was late afternoon when she opened her eyes.

There was a steady stream of orange coming in from the top of the window, casting itself into the room that she currently resided in. The brightness of it forced Razer to blink repeatedly and squint in distaste, and then find energy somewhere in her body to roll over and face away from it. It was a struggle at first, but once she managed to push herself up by one arm, throwing herself one hundred and eighty degrees seemed to be a lot simpler.

What she didn't expect to see were two people sitting in chairs facing her, and for one of those chairs to be backwards. She was blinking again, trying to get a clearer picture just to make sure – and when she was, she indeed saw Steve and Christie sitting there, chatting quietly to one another about what sounded like nothing in particular – or, they were, at least, because they were now both facing her.

Steve's grin was wide as he reached out to lightly pat her on the head, "Feeling okay, love?"

Razer paused, trying to think of a way to answer that. Really, she didn't know if she was feeling okay. Her body was a bit achy, sure, but most of her pain was still inside. She doubted that it would take a few hours or days to feel better. She wanted to say 'good' to please them, but she knew that they'd see through it. She didn't want to say 'horrible', either, because she wanted to try and be optimistic for the future that would come.

So she chose a simple answer and shrugged a little, but she couldn't hide the partial melancholy entirely, "I'll be alright."

"Yeah," Steve nodded, "You'll be alright."

Christie stood, saying that she would go and get everybody else and give Razer some time to adapt to the new environment. Once she shut the door quietly behind her, she questioned Steve on the events of the time she was unconscious. She needed answers, and she needed them quickly.

"War's over," he said simply, slinging both of his arms over the back of the chair, "Kazuya's still head of G-Corporation, but he's poured a bunch of resources into rebuilding infrastructure and also into aid. His red eye is gone too, apparently. Do you know anything about that?" a small nod, "I'll not press, then. Jin has surrendered the Mishima Financial Empire to Lars and is now quite literally helping others rebuild the place. I mean," he leant back against the wall, "He's with the workers, giving food, cleaning up messes and so on. Talk about a back flip, mate!" he paused and frowned a little, "What's saddest, though, is that people are rejecting his help. Understandable, but… wasn't his fault, and so few know that."

"He will suffer due to another's actions for the rest of life… It is sad."

Steve nodded and then abruptly stood, feeling around his back pocket. He pulled out a letter and gave it to her, "This is from him. He handed it to me on the way here to give to you. He said he would've done it himself, but he's unsure of how you'd act towards him considering the past. I'm gonna get some tea and see why Christie's taking so long. Want anything?"

Razer shook her head as she unfolded the paper, still in a very slow state of mind.

"I'll delay everybody else a bit longer," he remarked, weaving out of the corner and to the door.

She was thankful that said he'd do that – it gave her her first conscious experience of being totally alone with her thoughts. She expected Jin's part of Devil to leave and for him to try and rebuild society, but not Kazuya. And Lars, he would be an amazing leader and he'd do many amazing things for the world.

Swallowing an uncertain breath, Razer began to read Jin's letter.

_I am so sorry._

_You understand that I had no control, but for every moment that he harmed you and the world, I hated myself for being so weak. You stood by me when nobody else did – when the world turned its back on me, you were there. I cannot thank you enough for everything you have done – you ALWAYS helped. You've done more for me than you will ever know._

_If it were not for you, my sanity would have been long gone. You gave me the strength to keep fighting, no matter how wounded I was or how pointless it seemed. You did that, and a lot more. My only regret is that you were so damaged, because you should've left for your best interests – but you stayed._

_And it is for your best interests that I am declaring myself your ex-boyfriend (just in case you haven't done so already). Thank you for our time together, but it is time that you go back to where you belong – to where you are safe, happy and treated with true care._

_I have seen his mind, Razer, and it is good. Do what is right this time and spare me your sympathy. Take him, because he was always yours._

_May you have many happy years with him._

_- Jin Kazama_

She didn't realise that her hands were shaking until she got to the bottom of the page and was met with trembling white. There were too many emotions boiling in her blood, and she cared not to name them. She began to fold up the letter just as Seong-Hada burst in with watery eyes, and Baek was not far behind.

Even above the suffocating hug and the loud 'I missed you's, Razer could hear her master clearly as he looked over his shoulder and spoke to the man who she wanted to see the most – the one who was far down in the corridor, unmoving, "Aren't you coming?"

The response was just as clear, and it hurt her more than she expected, "No. Not 'allowed' to talk or go near her, remember?"

He was still following that stupid rule?

More people were flooding in past Baek as he nodded slightly and shut the door once Miharu made it in. Most of them remained a fair distance away – aside from Seong-Hada, of course – to give her as much space as she needed. She saw the two Koreans, Lars, Steve, Christie, Xiaoyu, Miharu, Julia, and even Lei managed to make it.

"Doing alright?" the cop asked.

She could only manage a small nod. Her eyes drifted amongst the faces – they were mostly smiling, glad that she was okay and that things would only get better from here on in. She stopped on Lars, who was wearing a business suit – only, his black tie was undone along with the first two buttons of his white shirt, and his black jacket was hanging over his forearm.

She smirked in amusement, and the action felt foreign nowadays, "And what do they call you now, Captain?"

"'Sir'," he answered, mirroring her expression.

Nodding a little again, her voice quietened and the smirk faded away, "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome."

Seong-Hada began to rattle on about something, and when she turned her head to the left to pay attention to him, she saw them. That's when she saw seven white roses in a green vase on the shelf.

Her focus on the items was apparent to everyone. They didn't understand their meaning – they thought it was just a simple, loving gesture – but oh God, it meant so much more than that. It meant so much more than that between herself and one other person. It didn't matter how many years ago that meaning had become real, what mattered is that it remained.

"…_but you yourself, you're like that rose."_

With Angel, without her… she remained unchanged. And he had known, all along – even when she didn't. Her urgency to be near him skyrocketed, but there was such little strength in her body. Physically, she still felt entirely exhausted, but mentally, she had never been so alive. Not for a very, very long time.

Motivated by her will, Razer threw back the bed covers and tore the IV drip from her arm. She was still in the same clothes as she remembered, only with the additional hospital piece over the top. She ripped that off her too as she forced her way through her friends, who were shocked at the sudden outburst and tried to get her to calm down and go back to bed.

By the time the sentences fully left their mouths, she was already charging down the hospital corridor.

There were parts of the street that were still smouldering, and many people would glance at him as he passed. Hwoarang was uninterested – his hands were deep in the pockets of his jeans, and he just wanted to walk all the way back home and go to sleep in his comfy bed. He wanted to be in familiar surroundings and appreciate what he still had.

He passed some paparazzi at one point, but they were unusually kind and left him alone, which he was grateful for. He didn't need to see the one-eyed monsters blindly flashing his way. He didn't need anything other than peace and quiet – and as he walked, he saw Jin standing not too many feet away from him, eyes downcast as he stared out into the city that he had ruined.

The Korean passed him unnoticed and continued on his way, slowly burying himself further and further into the crowds of people that were trying to help get Tokyo back on its feet. For him, Tokyo could wait. For him, his family and friends came first.

He was out of the crowd now, and still moving further and further away. That is, until he heard his name.

"Hwoarang!"

Rooted in place, he exhaled a shaky breath – one he didn't know he was holding – and turned, hands still deep in his pockets. He watched as Razer pushed herself through the crowd, not caring or interested in what they were doing or in her own exhaustion. She had to get to him.

Once through, she stopped before him suddenly and stared, breathing heavily. She watched how he clung to the seams of his pockets with what seemed to be a deathly grip, and how he was trying very hard to keep from breaking or saying something that'd either ruin the reunion or drive them apart further – the rift created by Jin made things hard and even awkward.

Swallowing, Razer's eyes glanced downward, and she fiddled with her hands, "Never again."

The Korean nodded quickly and blinked away the water that clung to the rims of his eyes – tears were not permitted. He observed her, and she was still the same, only tired and aged – she'd seen more than anybody on this Earth over the last year, and it showed. He studied her green eyes, noting how they lacked the brightness of the younger days, but how she tried anyway. The corner of her lips were slightly curved, but quivering a little – she was trying to smile.

Reaching up behind his neck, he undid the rocket pendant and removed her ring from the chain. Bunching up the rest of the item in his right hand, Hwoarang tossed the silver to her, watching as she caught it with fumbling fingers and watched it glint in the vague sunlight as light snow began to descend, "I kept this for you, because I knew you'd come back."

Without hesitation, she put it back on immediately and wrapped her arms around herself to fend off the creeping cold and try to calm herself down. It'd been a long, hard road, but she was here again. She was back where she belonged, and it'd only be a matter of time before the bridges were mended and their wounds would stitch shut. And she could wait – he'd done so for her, time and again.

"Walk this long road with me," he whispered.

"You don't have to ask."

And then he knew that everything would be alright. They were gonna be alright.


	36. Epilogue: Time's Scar

Author's Note: Last chapter, guys D:!

* * *

_**Epilogue: Time's Scar**_

_BRAVE NEW WORLD_

_It has been six months since the beastly reign of Jin Kazama came to an end. Six months since the war was over, since he gave the Mishima Financial Empire to his uncle, Lars Alexandersson. It is through his wonderful leadership and guidance that the world is being restored to its former glory. We as the world draw on his strength to hold on through the rebuilding process and the hardships. Only today, Mishima Polytechnic High School was reopened, with thousands of students flocking through the gates. A week earlier, the Kyoto International School reopened also._

_There have been no answers from Jin Kazama on why he turned from a fair and just ruler into what he became – it was as though he was two entirely different people. In a strange move, Lars disbanded the trials and charges that were put against him, and instead demanded that he do a full three years worth of community service. In an even stranger move, Jin accepted and is quoted as saying, "I will gladly help undo the evil I have done. I cannot bring back lives, but I can do what I can."_

_On the opposite side, Kazuya Mishima has recruited his foster brother, Lee Chaolan, to assist with the war relief and rebuilding program. The pair seem to have repatched their kinship – Lee has designed robots to move heavy debris and get the buildings up faster .Kazuya has funded this, and in a surprising statement, said the following:_

"_I feel as though I have been reborn… and I know my son feels the same. We have broken free from our torments and can see clearly for the first time._

"_The MFE and G-Corporation from here on in will work tirelessly to restore the world to its former glory. A generation of Mishima men will guide you back to the lives you deserve – do not fear us, for we are only trying to help. I know in his own way, Jin Kazama is trying to help too. You cannot wholly hate a man who is at least trying, as difficult as it may be._

"_And once we are standing tall again – as Japan, as America, as China, as France, or as any other –"_

"**Baaaaaek!**"

With his focus now shattered, the man folded up his newspaper and looked to Seong-Hada with a warm smile, "**Yes?**"

He nervously tugged down his shirt and asked, "**Do****I****look****okay?****I****mean****–**" he gestured to himself and bit his lip, "**Job ****interview…at ****a ****new ****restaurant. ****They ****serve ****Korean ****food ****here!**"

"**You ****look ****fine,**" he replied with a nod encouragement, "**Just ****make ****sure ****you ****put ****on ****your ****brightest ****face ****and ****your ****most ****happy-go-lucky ****smile, ****and ****I'm ****sure ****you ****will ****get ****it.**"

"**O-okay**."

He returned to the newspaper once he heard the front door close. Students would be here soon.

It had been a gruelling thirty minutes, but he'd done it. Seong-Hada got the job, he started tomorrow, and they couldn't wait to start working with him. They called him nice things like 'charming' and 'infectious', and he couldn't help but grin through it all. A restart of his new start.

He was leaving the building when he saw Xiaoyu walking back from her university, an ice cream in hand. She seemed distracted and lost in her thoughts – she didn't even notice him until he stood in her direct path. When she saw him, her face instantly brightened, "Hey, SH!"

Seized by the high from getting the chef job, the 20-year-old inexplicably grabbed her by the back of her head and pulled her into a hurried kiss. When he let go, he spoke in his usual, quirky way, "Now you're my girlfriend. That's _two_ great things that have happened today!"

Blushing and flabbergasted, she didn't have the heart to tell him that _that _wasn't how people asked someone else out. He was Seong-Hada, dammit – he always had his own, weird way of doing things. If that's what he wanted her to be, then Xiaoyu would gladly accept the 'fact' with red cheeks and a wide smile, "Sure, I'm your girlfriend."

Still a bit skittish, he took her hand and walked her the rest of the way home.

As they walked, Julia rushed past them, heading towards the airport. She gave them a quick wave as she moved, but she still remained focused on getting to the waiting area before a particular person returned to her homeland. She needed to speak to her again for some answers.

It did not take her long to locate Zafina. She smiled a little and watched as she swung her bag over her shoulder, "Where are you going to go?" she paused, "After all of that, where will you go? What will you do now without Azazel?"

"Go home," she answered, "and resume guarding whatever else I am assigned to."

Nodding a little, she spoke again, "I am going to stay here for a little while longer and keep checking out the chamber for anything else. I'll let you know if I find something new or interesting."

She growled lowly, not looking over her shoulder, "I don't want anything more to do with that monstrosity! What is done is done, I cannot change it – I still _failed._ The pain he has caused will never leave – so it is best to spare myself any further pain and leave. I just cannot deal with this anymore."

She was… surprised. All of those years guarding a place she couldn't even enter, and she wanted nothing more to do with it? Wasn't she curious as to where all of the tunnels had gone? Wasn't she curious as to the beast's nature, and if there were any others like it? Was the feeling of failure that strong? "So be it."

Without saying goodbye, the Middle Eastern woman boarded the plane.

She took several steps backwards before turning away, adjusting her glasses and exhaling sharply.

As she travelled out of the airport, she spotted Jin. He was in a button-up white shirt and black pants, and he had a broom with him. There were two children nearby – one who jeered at him and then was berated and dragged away by his Mother. The other stayed behind for a few moments and smiled at him, before following her family away.

Slowly, he turned away with a smile of his own. Nobody outside of his circle of friends and family understood why he was so happy six months on. And he was okay with that. Yes, he owed them answers, but they wouldn't understand anyway. Maybe one day, he could tell them and let the demons and ghosts of the past rest; until then, he was happy to revel in the silence. The oncoming storm came and went – and now it was over.

"My team back home has been researching genes," someone suddenly stated.

Jin looked up from his work and saw Julia standing beside him. He stood up a little taller and switched the broom into his other hand so it did not bump her, "Really?"

"Yes," she replied, smiling thereafter, "Mainly Genocell… Do you remember?"

_She looked away, closing her green eyes, "Genocell is a failed hope."_

When he nodded, she continued, "It was still being constructed back then. Your team continued it under your rule, and Lars gave us the data to try and work it out," she curled her hair at the end of her fingers, "It was not a cure like I first thought, and it did not offer control like you'd hoped, Jin. It was like a virus to activate or give the Devil Gene to everyone, namely Heihachi back in the Third Tournament… and who knows? Maybe then the world."

Jin stared in disbelief for a few moments before inquiring, "What are you going to do with it? Devil's earthly existence is gone, it shouldn't activate or be of any use anymore."

She pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose, "Correct, but it still has one use – an explanation," she placed a hand gingerly on his shoulder, "In a few months, I can do what you cannot – clear your name and bring you back into a partially accepting society."

He clenched the broom tighter with one hand, and with the other, he placed it over hers appreciatively, "Thank you so much, Julia."

She smiled and took her hand away, grabbing a plastic bag that loosely hung from his side pocket, "Let's clean this place up together."

Neither saw two friends walk by behind them, checking over the public. Detectives Wulong and Burton continued to munch on noodles that they had recently purchased. They remained had remained in Japan to conduct further police investigations into the MFE and G-Corporation's actions over the past year. They were currently unneeded in Hong Kong and Korea, and instead had been assigned here.

"It's been a hell of a journey, hmm?" Lei remarked, watching out for crooks and thoroughly enjoying his noodles, "I think I'm getting too old for this!"

Burton hummed in agreement, licking his lips to savour more of the flavouring, "Indeed. There's still much to be done though, and many more years to go through before life is as it was for everyone. It's up to people like us to keep the balance on a small scale, so let's do our best."

"Have you heard from Steve or Christie since they went back to England?" Burton shook his head, causing Lei to frown, "A pity. It'd be nice to hear from them a little more often."

Suddenly, Lei was bowled over. Crying out in shock and mourning the loss of his delicious noodles, he stood to his feet and turned, hearing Miharu shout out an apology and then declare that she was extremely late and had such little time.

Burton continued to eat, annoyingly slurping his noodles to tease his friend, "I wonder where she's off to in a hurry."

* * *

She knocked on the door, passing the small box between her hands anxiously. Soon enough, a familiar face popped out from the crack, making Miharu jump due to its suddenness before settling.

And then, she spoke, "You look like shit, Hwo."

"I feel like shit," he replied, opening the door a little wider. He rubbed his face and leant against the frame, "Please tell me you brought 'em."

She stuck her arm out and grinned, waving the box from side to side before handing it over, "You're lucky I work at a chemist. Take two milligrams _immediately_ before bedtime. Don't take it with or after food. You could get dizziness and common cold symptoms as side effects. Try it for about a week or two," hurriedly checking her purple watch, she exhaled and ran her fingers through her hair, "I gotta get back to work now, my lunch break's almost over. You're _also_ lucky that I don't charge you for this!"

"Yeah, yeah. I know," he smiled a little, the box now in his hands, "Get out of here and go back to work."

After bidding each other goodbye, Hwoarang closed the door and rested his back against it, slouching forward with his index finger and thumb pressing against his temples. In the six months that had passed, he had developed insomnia. He had difficulty falling asleep and could not stay asleep for very long. He could get maybe two, three hours of sleep per night. It was getting to the stage where Razer insisted that he try sleeping tablets to try and help – it took her a while to convince him, but here he was.

He still worked at the supermarket, but he participated in clean ups and trained Baek's kids where he could or where necessary. If he couldn't go to work, though, it was okay – they still had some of his money from the Fifth Tournament. The events of the past year and a half exhausted him and really got him thinking about his life and everyone in it, so much so that that was how he kept himself occupied during the night when he wasn't trying to sleep.

Despite his incessant thinking, sheer exhaustion and inability to sleep, though, the Korean knew he was happy – so he held onto it through the countless days and nights.

"Did Miharu come by?" Razer asked, leading him from the door to the nearby seat.

"Yeah, got 'em in my hand."

"Good. I wish you called me out from the other room so I could've said hello."

Lowering himself into the chair, he pressed his digits harder into his skull, "I would've, but it's an effort to yell. Gives me a headache."

She took the pills from his hand and heard him mumble a vague 'thanks', moving into the kitchen to place them on the counter. The apartment was rather small and on the outskirts of inner Tokyo, but a twenty minute bus ride could get them into the familiar area. She had sold all of her shares with the MFE and had even been accused of losing her mind by some journalists, but they were just making up their own stories, and she knew it.

Being… without Angel was still hard. In the moments that she was alone, she wanted advice from her, but it never came. She'd gotten used to it, but that didn't mean that it was easy. She thought she would've liked being alone, but there were both ups and downs to it, and she should've realised that long ago.

And Hwoarang, he'd changed. Matured, even. He still tried to help her, but the rift Ji – _Devil _had forced between them made it difficult to get back into an old routine. It was clear to her that he was still thinking about the past and wondering where he went wrong, wondering where maybe he could've fixed it; she knew it was clear to him that without Angel, she was struggling to wholly adjust. Despite the knowledge, neither knew how to approach one another.

He was calmer, less active, always tired because of the insomnia. She was more withdrawn, talked little, hid away in the apartment because she found it hard to deal with the memories that she could _see._ He always seemed distant – she needed to be close. It was as though they were living in the same home, and if one was upset or struggling, the other would just be sitting beside them, unmoving and listening to their uneven breath. This life was not like their old one, and it'd take a while before it was – it was awkward and borderline uncomfortable, but they knew it'd be alright. It didn't matter that they weren't together at this point – they weren't as ready as they'd once been.

They had to fix themselves first. Time had scarred them harder now than before.

Shifting her gaze from the billowing curtains, Razer returned to Hwoarang, standing behind him and lightly massaging his shoulders in light circles. She stared at their reflection in the mirror above the television, and she knew that he was looking back just as intently, "You should take a few days off. It will help."

"Mmm, soon…"

There were a few more moments of silence before she stopped. She leant forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing silently when he raised a hand to hold onto her forearm and lightly pressed his lips against her jaw line. She pulled away a little, fighting hard to hide a grin that she was sure was showing anyway, "Stop that."

He was grinning too, smug and confident in his words, "You know you like it."

And then there was that – small signs that the normal Hwoarang was still buried in there somewhere, and her real self was buried somewhere too. It made her smile, because she looked forward to the days where their older lifestyle could overlap with the current one. Time scarred them, but time would also heal them and make sense of the scrabbled mess that was their relationship. It needed defining – or maybe it didn't. Maybe it was perfectly fine the way it was – untamed, unnamed and free.

Razer's lips curved into a full smile at last. Yes, it didn't matter. At least, not now. What mattered was she was happy, she realised as he tightened his grip on her forearm – and that was the most important thing.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, here we are. The last one. The last "Me" fic I will ever post on this site. I bet you're all "wooooo" by now, lol, because come on... Five fics? I'm being generous lololol :P Just kidding - **YOU GUYS** have been **SO. **_**AMAZING.**_To me. Seriously the fact that I'm still getting over one hundred reviews per "Me" fic in a relatively small section stuns me, because I know how "blehhh" this section is towards OCs - its been a fear of mine since I started this saga. "What will people think? I won't get flamed simply because an OC is a lead char, will I? How many people will think that the character and the author are the same because I couldn't find a better penname? Should I really bother doing this?" It really frightened me, writing the stories I wanted to tell in this... 'universe'. But you guys have been so fucking amazing and I honestly cannot thank you enough.

But now its time to stop.

This entire saga has been seriously hard work, and its actually the first thing I've ever finished wholly. Many times I've tried to write novels and the like, but this is the first time where I not only finished one story, but _every _story to tell in its corresponding universe. There's been times where I've wanted to just completely _stop ,_but you guys really drove me to finish each and every story in this four-and-a-half year period because you were all enjoying it so much. You guys - through this saga - gave me my 'fame'. You guys - through this saga - helped me improve my writing and taught me what it meant to be determined and what the rewards will be. You guys - through this saga - inspired me to publish my own goddamn fanbook, _**"Tekken: Mono"**_. You guys - through this saga - changed me as a person. For the better. And I can't thank you enough for the support you've given me, the help and friendship you've given me and so on.

This is so hard to write right now... because I don't want it to end. But it has got to. I don't want to be a fanfic author who continuously publishes Canon/OC stories.

I still have many stories to tell. Just because this is over doesn't mean I'm going. The first thing on my 'list' is to finish _"No Tomorrow"_- THAT I can promise you. I'm still going to publish oneshots, and I'm still going to be around. If there's one thing that I ask of you wonderful people though, its this - **please don't ask me to write and post a Tekken 7 "Me" fic.** I won't do it, no matter how interesting the plot is or how many of you ask. I posted _"Take Me Back" _for you guys because you all wanted to see it, and I posted _"Whisper For Me"_for you guys because I wanted to thank you so much for your support. But I don't think I can do another "Me" fic, sorry to say D:

Also, please don't forget to check out TooManyScars' _**"Damned If You Do, Damned If You Don't"**__. _Its a fanfic of... well, this fic. Its incomplete at the moment but it seems to go through what the author interprets of _"Whisper For Me", _and then through into the early stages of Tekken 7 (so far). Its riddled with WIN and fangirling-keyboard-smashing and just... Yeah. I hope you guys like it as much as I do! Despite the infrequency of updating, that's probably where you'll see the last of Razer and Seong-Hada (being the focus of the fic etc) on this site. I _really _appreciate it, TooManyScars - whether you've lost motivation for it or not, it doesn't dampen how much that story means to me and how happy it makes me. Thank you.

If you have _any _questions about this saga or the characters involved, be they my OCs or my portrayal of a canon character - no matter how many years later you end up reading this or whatever - or you want to see some art (I have art! Lots of art) or something - don't hesitate to contact me. I'm happy to answer!

And now, for the giant thank you notes:

_TeaC0sy:_

YOU, little lady, have been the most amazing of all - why? Because you've been there since the very beginning, like _dead set _since the very beginning; and you've been there for me through all the ups, the downs, the "I am so awesome"s, the "I can't keep doing this"-es, and just... Thanks so much for everything. I never dreamed of finding a friend like you on this site. Thank you so much for your support since JLM Chapter One the moment it was published. Thanks for reading and reviewing _every single chapter _as they came out - your comments always bring a smile to my face, your compliments warm my heart and just THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.

_AmberAnodyne:_

Yooou! Congratulations on graduating from nursing school and on your marriage - they took you away from here for a while but YOU'RE BACK BB OH YA. Thanks for helping me get through those tough times - without your words of wisdom, I dunno where I'd be. Like TeaC0sy, I'm so thankful to have met you here. Thanks so much for everything - you came in a little late but your unwavering support is just as appreciated. Thanks for letting me use your OCs temporarily also, it was an honour. THANK YOU!

_Spongecake 2:_

Hey ho. Sup? I know there's a lot of times where I seem off or aloof to you when I reply to your reviews or chat but I truly appreciate your support through this whole saga. Your reviews _always _make me giggle (like that recent one for chapter 34. That last paragraph. YOU KNOW THE ONE) and I really appreciate the constructive feedback that you give, particularly because I get so little of it outside of "this line rocks" or "THIS IS AN AWESOME CHAPTER". Thanks so much for everything, I really appreciate it and I hope that you can stick around. And yes, I stole your greeting - get over it :3 Thanks!

_And for the final time, my Beta:_

This is the last fic you beta'd for meeee D: I still really appreciate it though, you helped me get on my feet and work out some inconsistencies for every story. You were there while I was writing JLM, let alone before I even posted it here - you're a very valuable person to me and I'm glad that you said "yes" in March 2007 to helping me beta this saga. If it weren't for you, I don't think I would've even had the courage to post any of the stories on the site, so thanks for your support and thanks for telling me to "go for it!" :D

And to the rest of you guys, THANK YOU and I hope to see you around again: AngelEyes87 (cheers!), Dynasty021 (you planted this story in my head many years ago. You gave me the idea to do it. Thanks!), Danko Kaji (where are you hiding? Miss you and thanks!), Fraulein Leni, risefromgrace16 (thanks!), storytime (thanks for sticking around!), Hidden Fan, HOIME G (thank you so much for being so awesome!), Too Many Scars (thank you so much - for everything), Esther-Diana, winnie (I made more chapters lol :3),hmm (I love your username. XD), EnigmaticMemory (many thanks!), Erinnyes (I know you hate OCs and are very judgemental of work - the fact that you've enjoyed this makes me so happy, thank you!), stallion-ponyta, razerang xo, SoulCaliburess (you flatter me - thanks for being so kind), Ghostkerchief, Blunt Razer (yes, I meant it when I said I appreciated your seemingly negative feedback - let's hope I improve eh? Lol), and lastly, to **you**, for reading.

With that said and done... I have one last surprise. **Go back to where it began.**

It took me a long time... but I entirely rewrote _"Just Like Me". _It was hard and it took nearly three years (writing the original only took seven months AHAHAHAHA I'm slow now), but I feel much better for it. I'm not sure if I will rewrite any of the others, but that was the one I was unhappiest with when I looked back on it in regards to the writing. Now its fixed, now its improved, and if you decide to go reread it, I hope you enjoy it just as much as you did the first time (or to those who are new, I hope you like it XD).

Thank you for everything, guys. I owe a lot to you and I hope I can keep entertaining you outside of this universe.

And with that... Its really over.


End file.
